WILLIAM 

PATTERSON 

WHITE 


LYNCH  LAWYERS 


Iftoveis  bs 
WILLIAM  PATTERSON  WHITE 

THE  OWNER  OF  THE  LAZY  D 
LYNCH  LAWYERS 


Half  deafened  and  coughing  in  the  smoke,  Red  Kane  wrenched  the 

Winchester  from  the  hands  of  Dot  Lorimer.     FRONTISPIECE. 

Seepage  118. 


LYNCH    LAWYERS 


BY 


WILLIAM  PATTERSON  WHITE 


WITH    FRONTISPIECE    BY 

ANTON    OTTO    FISCHER 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,   BROWN,   AND    COMPANY 
1920 


Copyright,  1920, 
BY  LITTLE,   BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 

All  rights  reserved 

Published  January,  1920 
Reprinted  January,  1920  (twice) 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  by  J.  S.  Gushing  Co., 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


TO   MY    COUSIN 
LAURA   ELLMAKER   WALLER 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  RED  KANE'S  BOREDOM    ......  i 

II  THE  MORNING  AFTER 6 

III  THE  SUDDEN  LADY  .        .        .        .    <   .        .        .  13 

IV  THE  NESTER .   .    ',        .  24 

V  THE  COTTONWOOD    .        .        ,        ....        .  35 

VI  JUDGE  LYNCH ; .      ';.        .  43 

VII  PUBLIC  OPINION       ...        .       '.r'     .        .  54 

VIII  THE  BROKEN  KNIFE        .        .        .        .        .        .  61 

IX  LANPHER          .        .        .        .        ....       .71 

X  "HEY,  BOYS,  UP  Go  WE!  "   .        *       .        ...  79 

XI  THE  WARNING         .        .        .        ...        .  86 

XII  A  WILD  TIME  .        .        ......  99 

XIII  THE  DARK  PLACES .'.        .106 

XIV  THE  STRANGER .125 

XV  RECOVERY 136 

XVI  THIN  ICE 145 

XVII  THINNER  ICE 152 

XVIII  AN  ACCIDENT? 164 

XIX  "RIDIN'  'EM" 172 

XX  LUMLEY'S  LAUGH .187 

XXI  A  POINT  OF  LAW 197 

XXII  THE  BAR  S 208 

XXIII  THE  CALABOOSE 222 

XXIV  ONE  DOWN 234 

XXV  THE  SHOT 243 

XXVI  ROCK  COUNTY  MEN                       ....  252 


Vlll 


Contents 


CHAPTER 

XXVII  SMOOTHER  THAN  BUTTER 

XXVIII  A  CHECK  .... 

XXIX  THE  STAIN 

XXX  THE  UNEXPECTED    . 

XXXI  THE  DUST  CLOUD    . 

XXXII  A  PLEASANT  EVENING     . 

XXXIII  SKINNER  is  REASONED  WITH 

XXXIV  THE  REAPER    . 
XXXV  THE  BARGAIN  . 

XXXVI  THE  HEARING  . 


PAGE 
269 

282 
293 
305 
319 

333 
34i 
347 
356 
368 


LYNCH  LAWYERS 


LYNCH    LAWYERS 

CHAPTER   ONE 
RED  KANE'S  BOREDOM 

"  WHY,"  mourned  "  Red  "  Kane,  "  why  don't  some- 
thin'  ever  happen?" 

"  Knock  wood  quick,"  urged  "  Kansas "  Casey,  the 
deputy  sheriff,  "  or  somethin'll  happen  to  you  maybe." 

"Huh!"  snorted  Red  Kane  the  skeptic,  "I  wouldn't 
mind.  Any  thin'  for  a  change.  A  earthquake,  or,  if 
you'd  have  a  fit  even,  it'd  help.  I  ain't  particular. 
Djever  have  fits,  Kansas?  "  he  added  hopefully. 

"  Shore  I  never,"  denied  the  indignant  Kansas.  "  You 
talk  like  I  was  a  cat  or  somethin'." 

"  Yuh  might  be  somethin'  lots  worse.  Cats !  Why, 
Kansas,  cats  is  real  people  an'  wide  between  the  eyes. 
I  dunno  but  what  cats  is  most  as  sensible  as  mules." 

"  Well,  I  ain't  no  cat,  an'  don't  you  forget  it !  "  Ca 
sey's  grin  belied  his  tone. 

"  Alia  same,  I  wish  somethin'd  happen."  Red  Kane 
was  not  losing  sight  of  the  main  issue. 

"  Why  don't  yuh  get  drunk  ?  "  suggested  Kansas. 

"  Don't  wanna  get  drunk.  Dunno  why,  neither. 
'Sfunny." 

"  Must  'a'  got  religion  like  Tommy  Mull  up  at  Cutter. 
But  Tommy  jumped  in  again  with  a  splash  that  near 
drownded  him,  an'  so  will  you.  They  all  do." 

"  I  guess.     I'm  only  a  poor  weak  vessel  full  o'  sin  an' 


Lynch   Lawyers 


the  devil's  works  like  I  heard  a  helldodger  say  once  at 
camp-meetin'  when  I  was  a  kid  back  East  in  Arkansaw. 
Scared  me  green,  them  words  did,  till  my  pap  told  me 
how  that  was  only  the  preacher's  way  o'  callin'  me  a  hu 
man  being.  Lordy,  I  wish  I  was  back  in  Tom's  Landing. 
There'd  be  a  dog  fight  or  a  steamboat  takin'  on  freight  or 
somethin'.  An'  a  swim !  A  feller  could  take  a  swim,  a 
real  shore-nough  swim  in  twenty  foot  o'  water.  Twenty 
foot  o'  cool  water,  Kansas." 

"  Shut  up !  "  begged  the  deputy.  "  The  sweat's  run- 
nin'  down  the  back  o'  my  neck;  that  thermometer  out 
front  says  ninety-five  in  the  shade,  an'  they  ain't  no  swim- 
min'  water  inside  o'  fifteen  mile.  A  swim !  " 

"  Yessir,  a  swim,"  persisted  Red  Kane,  his  eyes  shin 
ing  at  the  memory,  "  an'  a  float  while  yuh  go  driftin' 
down  the  current  with  the  afternoon  sun  a-slantin'  down, 
an'  the  Mississippi  shore  all  blue  an'  hazy  way  off  yonder, 
an'  no  sound  but  the  water  lappin'  when  yuh  wiggle  yore 
toes  or  maybe  a  steamboat  whistle  now  an'  then. 
Wouldn't  that  make  yuh  chew  cotton,  huh?  I'm  askin' 
yuh,  wouldn't  it?" 

"  Shut  up,  I'm  tellin'  yuh.  She's  only  one  o'clock,  an' 
gettin'  hotter  by  the  minute." 

"  All  of  which  ain't  got  a  thing  to  do  with  Farewell's 
bein'  dead  an'  buried.  I  might's  well  stayed  at  the  ranch 
an'  let  the  '  Kid's  Twin  '  come.  He  wanted  to,  an',  'cause 
he  wanted  to,  I  wanted  to  —  like  a  fool  —  an'  we  matched 
a  dollar,  an'  I  won  —  I  mean  I  lost." 

Red  Kane  listlessly  pulled  the  makings  from  a  vest 
pocket  and  constructed  a  cigarette  without  haste  and  with 
a  great  deal  of  care. 

The  two  men  were  sitting  in  the  shade  of  the  wide  eaves 
of  Dolan's  warehouse.  Through  the  open  window  of 
the  dance-hall  next  door  they  could  hear  the  voices  of 
the  bartender  and  one  of  the  girls  uplifted  in  a  dreary 
wrangling. 


Red   Kane's   Boredom  3 

"  If  it  wasn't  so  hot,  I'd  bend  this  bottle  over  yore 
head !  "  the  girl  declared  plaintively. 

The  bartender  mumbled  something.  The  girl  came  to 
the  doorway  and  stood  looking  out  into  the  street. 
Within  the  hotel  corral  a  mule  brayed  a  bray  without 
spirit,  a  bray  that  broke  off  in  the  middle. 

"  Gawd,"  murmured  the  girl,  slatting  the  sweat  from 
her  forehead  with  plump  fingers,  "  it's  too  hot  even  for 
the  mule." 

She  stared  heavily  at  Casey  and  Kane,  achieved  a  bo 
vine  wink  and  withdrew,  her  slippers  slipslopping  across 
the  dance-hall  floor. 

"  She  shore  feels  the  heat,  too,"  chuckled  Kansas 
Casey. 

Kane  nodded  and  inhaled  deeply.  He  was  hot  and 
becoming  hotter.  Nevertheless,  his  desire  for  action  of 
some  sort  remained  acute.  Which  desire  was  destined 
to  be  divertingly  gratified  much  sooner  than  he  expected. 

The  northbound  stage,  pulling  in  with  mail,  two  pas 
sengers  and  the  Wells  Fargo  box,  broke  the  front  axle 
directly  opposite  the  Canton  Restaurant.  The  Wells 
Fargo  guard  and  the  driver  shot  from  the  seat  and 
sprawled  upon  the  horses.  The  wretched  passengers 
smote  the  interior  of  the  coach  with  noses  and  knees.  At 
the  slithering  impact  of  the  guard's  and  driver's  bodies 
upon  their  skittish  backs  the  horses  ran  away. 

The  guard  fell  between  the  wheels  and  came  out, 
barked  and  bruised  but  otherwise  undamaged,  under  the 
rear  axle.  The  driver,  hanging  to  his  reins,  straddled 
the  pole  and  strove  to  regain  control  of  his  tearing  team. 
The  customers  of  the  Happy  Heart  saloon  rushed  out  to 
see  the  fun.  Then  they  rushed  in  again  with  equal 
promptitude  and  gained  safety  a  short  jump  ahead  of  the 
careering  stage,  which  mounted  the  sidewalk  and  fairly 
clipped  the  saloon's  doorsill.  All  the  cow-ponies  attached 
to  the  hitching-rail  ran  away,  and  in  all  directions,  too. 


Lynch   Lawyers 


Mrs.  Jackson,  a  nervous  person,  in  sticking  her  head 
out  of  her  kitchen  window,  knocked  away  the  supporting 
stick  and  was  held  in  the  position  of  a  guillotined  victim 
of  the  French  Revolution  by  the  descending  sash.  The 
unhappy  lady  at  once  began  to  scream  like  a  lost  soul,  for 
the  window  had  jammed  and  she  could  not  release  herself. 

The  stage  and  its  horses  poured  through  Mrs.  Jack 
son's  tiny  truck  garden,  upset  the  wash-bench  and  two  tubs 
of  water,  swung  around  the  house  and  back  into  the 
street,  where  the  stage  struck  the  Bar  S  buckboard  and 
smashed  the  buckboard's  hind  wheels  to  splinters.  Here 
the  stage  was  joined  by  at  least  twenty- four  dogs,  which 
proceeded  to  further  enliven  the  frantic  horses  by  furious 
barking  and  sundry  nips  judiciously  delivered.  All  this 
in  the  midst  of  a  swirling  fog  of  golden  dust. 

At  the  crash  of  the  collision  with  the  buckboard  the 
stage's  two  passengers  contrived  to  open  a  door  and 
jump.  The  stage  was  making  excellent  time  at  the  mo 
ment.  The  two  passengers  came  to  earth  in  a  tangle, 
rolled  over  and  over  in  their  own  little  dust  cloud  and 
brought  up  against  a  snapped  post. 

The  runaways  had  not  lost  their  enthusiasm.  Leav 
ing  the  remains  of  the  buckboard,  they  wheeled  and  bore 
straight  down  the  middle  of  the  street  till  the  stage  locked 
wheels  with  a  freight  wagon.  The  freight  wagon  was 
strongly  built  and  it  stood  up  under  the  shock.  So  did 
not  the  stage.  The  king-pin  snapped,  the  body  of  the 
stage  parted  company  with  the  front  axle,  and  the  six 
horses,  freed  of  all  encumbrance  save  their  harness  and 
the  pole,  got  into  racing  stride  in  a  breath. 

At  the  edge  of  the  town  they  were  halted  by  a  quick 
witted  puncher  who  whirled  his  rope,  forefooted  a  leader 
and  piled  up  the  whole  outfit  in  a  heap.  Incidentally, 
the  driver,  who  had  stuck  to  his  duty  to  the  last,  almost 
had  his  brains  dashed  out  by  the  madly  flickering  heels 
before  he  could  crawl  clear. 


Red   Kane's   Boredom  5 

The  driver,  "  Whisky  Jim  ",  sat  up  and  swore  with 
great  feeling.  The  Wells  Fargo  guard  limped  up  and 
rescued  the  express  box.  The  puncher  freed  his  rope  and 
coiled  it.  Willing  spectators  held  the  horses. 

Red  Kane  and  Kansas  Casey  had  not  moved  during  all 
this  tumult  and  uproar.  Now  Casey  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  There,"  said  the  deputy,  "  just  see  what  yuh  done, 
wishin'  for  excitement :  them  drunkards  in  the  Happy 
Heart  nigh  lost  a  year's  growth,  the  stage  almost  natur 
ally  ruined,  an'  Mis'  Jackson  like  to  choke  —  if  Piney 
don't  get  that  window  up.  There,  he's  got  it  up.  An* 
yore  buckboard  looks  's  if  it's  gone  shy  a  wheel  or  some- 
thin'." 

"  She's  gone  shy  two  wheels  an'  the  whole  hind  end," 
supplemented  Red  Kane,  his  gray  eyes  glistening,  his 
tone  manifesting  less  sorrow  than  it  might  have,  "an'  'Old 
Salt'  will  just  about  go  crazy.  Won't  he  rare  an'  tear? 
Oh,  no,  he  won't.  He'll  sue  the  stage  company,  that's 
what  he  will.  Lucky  them  mules  was  in  gettin'  shod. 
Now  I  gotta  stay  here  till  Piney  can  mend  the  buckboard. 
Maybe  somethin'  else'll  happen.  C'mon,  Kansas,  le's  ir 
rigate.  I'm  a  heap  livened  up  now." 

On  their  way  to  the  saloon  they  saw  the  guard  and 
Buck  Saylor,  the  Wells  Fargo  agent,  carrying  the  express 
box  into  the  company's  office. 


CHAPTER    TWO 

THE    MORNING   AFTER 

RED  KANE  rose  early  in  the  morning.  He  wished  to 
see  Mr.  Piney  Jackson,  the  town  blacksmith,  start  to  work 
on  the  buckboard.  Not  that  Jackson  was  an  unwilling 
worker,  but,  like  many  another  man  of  his  kind,  Piney 
labored  the  better  for  being  watched. 

Red  Kane,  stretching  and  yawning  in  the  street  in  front 
of  Bill  Lainey's  hotel,  chanced  to  glance  past  the  front  of 
the  Starlight  Saloon  and  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  side  door 
of  the  express  office.  It  was  a  brief  glimpse,  but  it 
showed  him  that  the  door  was  open.  Within  the  office 
part  of  a  booted  leg  and  foot,  heel  on  the  floor  and  toes 
up,  was  visible.  Was  that  a  bandage  round  the  ankle? 
Was  it? 

Red  Kane  diagonally  crossed  the  sidewalk  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  express  office.  He  hurried.  Scuffling  in  at 
the  door  he  found  that  what  he  had  taken  for  a  bandage 
was  a  rope  and  that  it  tied  together  the  ankles  of  "  Buck  " 
Say  lor,  the  express  agent.  More  of  that  same  rope  was 
passed  round  Saylor's  wrists,  and  there  was  still  enough 
left  to  go  twice  between  Saylor's  open  jaws,  encircle  his 
head  and  finish  up  in  a  neat,  tight  knot  beneath  Saylor's 
occipital  bone.  The  agent's  eyes  batted  and  rolled.  He 
made  queer  noises  in  his  throat. 

"  Lordy !  "  exclaimed  Red  Kane  and  dropped  on  his 
knees  and  pushed  the  blade  of  his  clasp-knife  in  between 
Saylor's  bound  wrists. 

When  Say  lor  was  free,  he  sat  up  jerkily  and  spoke 


The   Morning  After  7 

after  the  manner  of  one  who  has  a  hot  potato  in  his 
mouth,  for  his  jaws  were  very  raw  and  sore. 

"  They  got  the  safe  an'  the  express  box ! "  were  the 
agent's  first  words. 

Red  Kane  looked  sidewise.  The  company  safe  was 
not  in  its  accustomed  corner.  Nor  was  the  box  from  the 
wrecked  stage  visible.  Red  Kane  nodded  and  sat  down 
comfortably  on  the  edge  of  the  agent's  cot. 

"  Yeah,"  said  Red  Kane,  "  g'on." 

"  My  Gawd !  "  moaned  Buck  Saylor,  holding  his  head 
in  his  hands  and  weaving  his  body  to  and  fro.  "  My 
Gawd!  Fifty  thousand  dollars  in  cash!  " 

"  Huh !  "  Red  Kane's  sagging  backbone  straightened 
with  a  snap. 

"  Fifty  thousand  in  gold,"  reiterated  the  mishandled 
agent.  "  Forty  thousand  in  the  box  for  the  new  bank  in 
the  Bend  an'  ten  thousand  consigned  to  Lanpher  o'  the 
88!" 

"  Insured?  "  asked  Red  Kane. 

The  agent  shook  his  head. 

"  Ha !  Ha ! "  barked  the  puncher  sardonically. 
"  Lanpher  will  shore  lose  his  mind !  He  don't  care  no 
more  for  sixbits  than  he  does  for  his  right  eye !  "  He 
broke  off,  perceiving  that  the  agent  failed  to  grasp  the 
point  of  the  joke.  "  Fifty  thousand,  Buck,"  he  went  on 
as  soothingly  as  possible ;  "  that's  a  fright,  shore.  What 
yuh  gonna  do  about  it?  " 

"  They  took  the  safe !  "  repeated  the  agent.  "  They 
took  the  safe !  " 

Then  and  not  till  then  did  Red  Kane  realize  the  true 
inwardness  of  the  agent's  remark.  For  the  Wells  Fargo 
safe  weighed  a  good  fifteen  hundred  pounds.  The  re 
moval  of  the  safe  was  a  deal  more  astonishing  than  the 
robbery.  Kane's  eyes  widened. 

"  She's  a  wonder  they  didn't  take  the  whole  office  while 
they  was  about  it.  Where  was  you  ?  " 


8  Lynch   Lawyers 

"Right  here.  Where'd  yuh  guess  I'd  be?  Say  —  " 
Here  the  agent's  somewhat  scattered  wits  returned  to  the 
fold  —  "  we  gotta  get  after  'em.  I  gotta  roust  out  Kan 
sas.  I  wish  Jake  was  here." 

"  I'll  get  Kansas,"  said  Red  Kane,  and  he  departed  on 
the  run. 

He  returned  breathless  in  five  minutes  with  the  deputy. 
The  agent  demanded  that  the  robbers  be  pursued  forth 
with. 

"  Plenty  o'  time,"  countered  Kansas.  "If  they  was 
bright  enough  to  hop  in  an'  hop  out  with  a  safe  weighin' 
as  much  as  two  ponies,  they're  bright  enough  not  to  hang 
around  where  we  can  pounce  down  on  'em.  Tell  me  all 
of  it,  Buck.  Then  maybe  we'll  know  where  we  stand. 
Didn't  yuh  hear  nobody  breakin'  in  ?  You  didn't  let  'em 
in,  did  yuh  ?  " 

"Let  'em  in?  Of  course  I  didn't  let  'em  in!  What 
yuh  guess?  But  it  was  so  hot  I  left  the  side  door  open. 
My  dogs  was  out  exercisin'  round,  an'  I  was  a-settin'  here 
on  my  bed  waitin'  for  'em  to  come  in,  an'  I  guess  I  must 
'a'  drowsed  off." 

"  I  guess  maybe,"  put  in  Kansas.     "  What  next?  " 

"  Next  I  was  bein'  tied  like  Red  found  me.  I  thrashed 
round,  but  they  had  me  tight.  I  couldn't  do  nothin'. 
Couldn't  even  squeak.  They  had  the  rope  in  my  mouth 
first  thing,  o'  course.  An'  everythin'  was  done  in  the 
dark." 

"  How  many  was  they  ?  Yuh  must  have  some  li'l 
idea,  even  if  yuh  couldn't  see  nothin'." 

'  Three  —  four  men  maybe.  I  ain't  shore.  Seems 
like  they  was  a  dozen,  but  o'  course  they  couldn't  have 
been  so  many." 

"  Did  they  say  anythin'  ?  " 

"  Nothin'  I  could  hear  'cept  once.  They  mostly  mut 
tered  low.  I  didn't  know  their  voices." 

"  What  did  they  say  that  once?  " 


The   Morning  After  9 

"  '  Here's  a  express  box/  says  one.  '  Take  it  along/ 
says  another.  '  They's  maybe  somethin'  in  it/  ' 

"  They  didn't  know  about  that  shipment  o'  forty  thou 
sand  to  the  Bend/'  declared  Kansas  Casey.  "  Lanpher's 
money  was  all  they  knowed  about,  an'  that  extra  forty 
was  pure  velvet.  You  couldn't  swear  to  neither  o'  them 
voices,  Buck,  huh  ?  Shore  ?  " 

"  Shore.     I'd  never  heard  'em  before/' 

"  Three  men  anyway,  yuh  say  ?  " 

"  Yep.  Now,  for  Gawd's  sake,  Kansas,  do  something 
will  yuh?  Yuh've  heard  all  I  can  tell  yuh,  an'  —  " 

"  Yeah,  I'm  paid  to  do  somethin',"  interrupted  Kansas, 
staring  levelly  at  Buck  Saylor.  "  I'll  do  my  job,  don't 
yuh  fret.  Habit  I  got.  Le's  go  out  an'  see  how  they  got 
the  safe  away." 

By  the  marks  on  the  earth  without  it  was  evident  that 
the  midnight  marauders  had  eased  the  safe  along  by  tip 
ping  it  end  over  end. 

"  She  must  'a'  made  a  jounce  each  time  she  dropped/' 
observed  Red  Kane. 

"  She  didn't  make  much  of  a  noise,"  said  the  agent. 
"  Leastwise  all  I  could  hear  was  li'l  bumps  like." 

"  You  must  be  gettin'  deef,"  Kansas  assured  him. 

Behind  the  corrals,  where  the  marks  of  crowbars  and 
bootheels  ended  in  a  maze  of  tracks  and  scars  and  gouges, 
the  express  agent  managed  to  vindicate  his  maligned  sense 
of  hearing. 

"  There,"  he  announced,  excitedly  pointing  his  ringer, 
"  look  at  that  mattress !  That's  why  I  didn't  hear  much. 
They  dropped  her  on  that  mattress  each  time.  I  told  yuh 
they  was  a  heap  silent." 

"  A  heap  silent ! "  cried  Kansas  Casey  scornfully, 
pointing  to  the  wheeltracks  of  a  freight  wagon.  "  A 
heap  silent!  Look  at  them  wagontracks!  Why,  they 
musta  made  noise  enough  to  wake  Julius  Caesar.  I'm 
surprised  the  town's  still  here.  Dunno  why  they  didn't 


i  o  Lynch   Lawyers 

take  you  too,  Buck.  Yore  head  would  make  'em  a  good 
paperweight." 

"  How  could  I  know  what  was  gonna  happen?  "  pro 
tested  the  indignant  Buck  Say  lor.  "  My  dogs  wasn't 
around." 

Came  then  Tom  Kane,  Red  Kane's  brother  and  a  citizen 
of  Farewell  engaged  in  the  freighting  business.  Tom 
Kane  was  manifestly  perturbed  to  a  degree. 

"My  wagon's  gone!"  he  declared.  "Likewise  the 
marshal's  pet  ridin'  hoss  an'  a  team  o'  my  mules.  What 
you  laughin'  at?  "  he  added  angrily  to  his  brother. 

*  You,"  grinned  Red,  "  an'  them  midnight  magruders. 
Which  they  are  shore  the  most  enterprisin'  active  gents  I 
ever  have  the  luck  to  hear  tell  of.  Yessir." 

"  Yo're  a  fool !  "  snapped  Tom  Kane  in  proper  broth 
erly  fashion. 

"  Well,  anyway,  I  got  sense  enough  to  hang  onto  what's 
mine,"  returned  Red  Kane. 

"Yeah,"  said  Tom  unpleasantly,  "yeah.  If  yo're  so 
able  to  hang  onto  what's  yores,  where's  yore  team  o' 
mules  gone  ?  " 

"  What !  "  cried  Red.  "  Ain't  they  in  the  corral  with 
yore  other  teams  ?  " 

"  They  ain't,  y'bet  yuh.  Only  my  other  teams'  there. 
Yore  mules  is  vanished  plumb  away.  Yore  li'l  black  hoss 
is  missin',  too." 

Tom  Kane  smacked  his  lips  with  relish  as  he  gazed 
at  his  brother.  Red  began  to  swear.  He  heatedly  cursed 
the  robbers  and  their  immediate  ancestors  as  he  hitched 
up  his  chaps  and  started  off  in  the  direction  of  his 
brother's  corral. 

"  I'm  gonna  borrow  one  o'  yore  hosses,"  he  flung  back 
over  his  shoulder. 

"  Help  yoreself ,"  Tom  called  after  him.  "  Take  Jack 
Owens'  saddle.  She's  hangin'  inside  the  front  door." 

"  Guess  we've  done  learned  all  we  need  here,"  said  the 


The   Morning  After  1 1 

methodical  Kansas.  "  Might  as  well  scare  up  a  posse  now 
an'  do  a  li'l  trailin'." 

They  had  no  need  to  scare  up  a  posse.  Every  Farewell 
citizen,  on  hearing  the  news,  reached  for  his  Winchester, 
scooped  up  saddle  and  bridle  and  headed  for  his  horse. 

Within  fifteen  minutes  Kansas  Casey  was  riding  the 
wagon-track  trail.  With  him  galloped  the  two  Kanes, 
Buck  Say  lor  and  twenty  other  men.  Other  of  Farewell's 
inhabitants,  slower  in  the  uptake,  followed  by  twos  and 
threes. 

They  followed  the  tracks  eastward  a  distance  of  more 
than  five  miles.  Riding  through  a  draw,  they  came  sud 
denly  upon  the  freight  wagon,  its  pole  propped  and  tidily 
harness-hung,  standing  between  two  tall  spruce  trees. 
Beyond  the  wagon,  where  the  draw,  widening  round  a 
spring,  formed  a  basin  filled  with  lush  grass,  grazed  four 
hobbled  mules.  Of  the  marshal's  pet  riding  horse  and 
Red  Kane's  black  pony  there  were  no  signs. 

'l  They  shore  was  thoughtful  devils,"  Red  Kane  ob 
served,  nodding  toward  the  hobbled  mules  and  the  wagon. 
"  Tom  himself  couldn't  'a'  took  more  care  o'  that  harness, 
an'  they  might  'a'  left  them  mules  run  loose." 

"  Yuh'd  oughta  be  grateful,"  chuckled  Piney  Jackson. 

"  I  am.  Oh,  yes,  shore  I  am,  an'  then  a  li'l,  on  top  o' 
that.  Bet  I  never  see  my  black  cay  use  again." 

Red  had  reason  to  be  pessimistic.  The  black  was  an 
excellent  horse ;  speedy,  good  wind  and  bottom  and  an  ex 
traordinarily  easy  keeper.  The  thieves  had  lifted  a  prize 
and  doubtless  knew  it  by  this  time. 

"Where's  the  safe?  That's  what  I'd  like  to  know." 
Thus  Buck  Saylor,  staring  about  him. 

"  Here  she  is !  "  replied  Kansas  Casey,  craning  his  neck 
to  see  over  a  willowbush. 

The  horsemen  crowded  up.  There  was  the  Wells 
Fargo  safe,  right  side  up  and  yawningly  empty.  The 
door,  hinges  wrenched  crookedly  and  snapped  across,  lay 


12  Lynch   Lawyers 


front  downward  on  the  crushed  grass.  An  acrid  odor 
hung  about  the  safe. 

"  Giant,"  averred  Red  Kane,  sniffing. 

"  Shore,"  said  Dolan,  a  storekeeper  and  the  local  jus 
tice.  "  Likely  they  was  miners." 

"  Miners  ain't  the  only  folks  know  how  to  use  blastin' 
powder,"  declared  Red.  "  It  might  'a'  been  anybody." 

"  It  probably  was,"  Dolan  said  dryly.  "  I  wonder 
where  the  box  is." 

They  poked  about  among  the  bushes  and  came  at  last 
upon  the  express  box,  smashed  open  and  as  empty  as  the 
safe,  near  the  spring.  Stuck  in  a  crack  of  the  splintered 
lid  was  a  folded  bit  of  paper.  Red  Kane  was  the  first 
to  reach  the  paper.  He  spread  out  and  smoothed  it 
against  the  swell  fork  of  his  saddle,  the  others  jostling 
each  other  to  read  over  his  shoulders  the  few  lines  of 
pencilled  printing  that  sprawled  waveringly  across  the 
gray  and  grimy  surface.  The  wording  ran : 

hope  you  had  a  goode  ride  thanks  for  the  money  we  didn't  expect 
so  much  you'll  notice  we  tuk  goode  care  of  your  mules  an  harness  we 
needed  your  two  hosses  so  we'll  take  'em  with  us  we'll  come  again 
sometime  goodby. 

"  An'  there  you  are,"  said  Red  Kane,  handing  the 
paper  to  Kansas  Casey.  "  All  we  gotta  do  is  wait  till 
they  come  again." 


CHAPTER   THREE 

THE   SUDDEN    LADY 

IT  would  seem  that  the  men  of  Farewell  were  destined 
to  wait  even  as  Red  Kane  said,  for  there  were  no  tracks, 
—  at  least  no  appreciable  trail  leading  out  of  the  draw. 
Here  and  there  were  hoofmarks,  but  these  were  lost  on 
hard  ground  three  hundred  yards  farther  east. 

"  Looks  like  a  stand-off,"  observed  Kansas  Casey. 
"  But  we  gotta  do  somethin'." 

He  divided  the  posse  into  pairs  and  groups  of  threes 
and  fours  and  sent  these  out  in  all  directions  to  hunt 
signs.  Red  Kane  and  his  brother  Tom  rode  together. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  they  sighted  the  old  ranch-house 
at  the  base  of  Sweetwater  Mountain. 

"  They  ain't  nothin'  there,  I  guess,"  observed  Tom 
Kane.  "  Might's  well  swing  off  to  the  south  toward  the 
gap  between  Sweetwater  and  the  Sandy  Hills.  Maybe 
them  bandits  went  through  there.  If  they  went  east,  they 
shore  did." 

"  We'd  ought  to  look  at  that  ranch-house  first,"  de 
murred  Red. 

"  What  for?  Nobody's  lived  there  since  the  K  C  out 
fit  sold  out  to  the  Cross-in-a-box  five  year  ago.  What'sa 
use  wastin'  time,  Red?  Yo're  always  wantin'  to  slide 
off  to  one  side.  I  never  see  such  a  jigger.  Besides,  I 
wanta  get  home  some  time  tonight." 

"  Now  we're  gettin'  at  it,"  grinned  Red.  "  It  ain't  so 
much  my  ridin'  away  from  the  line  as  it  is  yore  wantin' 
to  get  home  that  bothers  you,  huh  ?  " 

"  Well,  they's  my  mules  an'  my  wagon  back  there  in 


1 4  Lynch   Lawyers 

that  draw,  an'  they's  yore  mules  too.  What'll  Old  Salt 
say  if  anythin'  happens  to  'em?  I  should  think  you'd  be 
anxious  about  'em.  Most  any  rightminded  man  would 
be.  But  not  you.  Whadda  you  care  for  other  folks' 
property?  Nothin',  that's  all.  It  might  all  get  lost  or 
stole  an'  you  wouldn't  bat  an  eye-winker." 

"  Aw,  the  mules  are  all  right.  I  want  my  black  pony. 
She's  the  best  cayuse  in  my  string  and  the  best  cuttin' 
pony  in  the  territory,  bar  none.  You  make  me  sick,  you 
an'  yore  mules!  You  act  like  yore  mules  an'  yore  old 
cracker-box  of  a  wagon  was  important,  really  worth  some- 
thin'.  My  li'l  black  hoss  tops  'em  by  —  " 

"  Yore  li'l  black  hoss !  Yore  li'l  black  accordeen,  you 
mean.  It  ain't  even  as  good  as  an  accordeen.  An  ac- 
cordeen'll  play  tunes,  an'  that  hoss  —  Why,  all  that  hoss 
is  good  for  is  to  bite  folks.  He  bit  me  yes'day  aft'noon, 
an'  —  " 

"  Bit  yuh,  did  he  ?  "  interrupted  Red  in  a  grieved  tone. 
"  I  was  wonderin'  what  made  him  so  sick  last  night.  The 
poor  li'l  feller.  You'd  oughtn't  to  tantalize  round  him 
that  way.  Don't  you  do  it  no  more,  Tom,  after  I  get  him 
back.  I  don't  aim  to  have  my  hosses  made  dyspeptics  for 
life  through  bitin'  chunks  out  o'  you.  Nawsir,  I  can't 
have  it,  Tom,  'deed  I  can't.  You  be  careful  now  an'  leave 
the  poor  hoss  be." 

The  stung  Tom  retorted  profanely.  Red  listened  ad 
miringly.  His  brother's  grasp  of  vivid  utterance  never 
failed  to  impress  him. 

"  That's  great,"  approved  Red  when  Tom  paused  for 
breath.  "  You  done  better'n  yuh  did  the  last  time,  re 
member,  when  yuh  fell  over  that  box  o'  can  tomatters  in 
the  dark  and  fetched  up  with  yore  face  against  the  stove. 
Mule-skinnin'  shore  does  help  a  gent  thataway,  don't  it  ?  " 

Thus  the  time  passed  profitably  till  they  came  to  the  old 
K  C  ranch-house  under  Sweetwater  Mountain.  They  ap 
proached  the  place  carelessly.  But  one  look  at  the  corral 


The   Sudden    Lady  15 

brought  them  alive  with  a  jerk.  Horses  were  visible 
through  the  gaps  between  the  posts. 

"What  are  you  doin'?" 

There  was  more  than  a  hint  of  amusement  in  the  soft 
voice  that  spoke  from  the  kitchen  window  of  the  ranch- 
house.  Both  men  turned  swiftly  in  their  saddles.  Red, 
at  sight  of  the  horses  in  the  corral,  had  pulled  his  six- 
shooter.  Now,  confronted  by  a  very  good-looking  girl,  he 
slid  the  gun  back  into  its  holster  and  hoped  she  hadn't 
seen  him  pull  it.  But  she  had.  Her  snapping  black  eyes 
twinkled  at  him. 

"  I'm  not  considered  dangerous,"  she  announced  in  a 
delicious  drawl,  putting  up  a  sunburnt  hand  to  push  back 
a  mop  of  curly  black  hair.  "  Your  friend  needn't 
worry !  "  she  added  significantly. 

"  He  ain't  my  friend,"  apologized  Red,  removing  his 
hat.  "  He's  my  brother,  an'  he  ain't  always  accountable." 
Here  he  kicked  his  brother  on  the  ankle,  adjuring  him  in 
a  fierce  whisper  to  put  away  his  six-shooter. 

Tom,  who  had  been  as  he  said  later,  "  struck  all  of  a 
heap  "  to  find  the  old  K  C  ranch  occupied  by  a  woman, 
hastily  bolstered  his  gun  and  wiggled  an  agonized  ankle. 

"  Were  you  lookin'  for  anythin'  ?  "  inquired  the  girl. 

"  No  ma'am,  no,  not  a-tall,"  disclaimed  Red  Kane. 

"  We  was  just  passin'  by,"  amplified  Tom  Kane,  mean 
while  endeavoring  to  snatch  an  unobtrusive  look  at  the 
animals  in  the  corral. 

'  You  don't  have  to  twist  around  so  and  rub  your  ear 
and  all  in  order  to  look  into  the  corral,"  the  girl  said 
kindly.  "  Ride  right  up  to  the  gate  and  enjoy  yourself. 
Don't  mind  me." 

Red  Kane  laughed  outright.  Tom  looked  rather  sour. 
Confound  the  woman.  She  was  too  observing  by  half. 

"I  —  I  —  they  —  we  —  we  lost  some  hosses,"  he 
stuttered,  "  an'  we  thought  maybe  they  might  'a'  strayed 
over  here." 


1 6  Lynch   Lawyers 


"  I  suppose  that's  why  you  tried  to  look  into  the  corral 
instead  of  asking  me  straight  out  whether  I'd  seen  them," 
observed  the  girl,  ceasing  abruptly  to  twinkle. 

"  Oh,  no,  ma'am,  no,"  Tom  hastened  to  assure  her,  but 
his  effort  was  not  convincing. 

The  girl  nodded  eying  him  steadily. 

"  You  don't  do  it  well,"  she  remarked  indifferently. 

"  Ma'am,"  said  Red  Kane,  "  you  mustn't  mind  Tom. 
He's  always  been  the  fool  o'  the  family.  I'm  beggin' 
yore  pardon  for  him.  You  see,  they's  been  a  robbery 
over  to  Farewell,  an'  fifty  thousand  dollars  an'  two  bosses 
are  missin'.  I  was  just  wonderin'  if  yuh'd  seen  anybody 
ride  by  this  mornin'  or  afternoon." 

"  Not  a  soul,"  she  told  him,  and  began  again  to  twinkle 
her  black  eyes.  "  I  wish  father  was  home.  He  might 
have  met  somebody,  although  he  didn't  mention  it  at  din 
ner.  He's  out  on  the  range  now.  One  of  our  horses  has 
strayed." 

"  An'  he's  huntin'  it,"  observed  Tom  Kane. 

"  He  is,"  said  the  girl.  "  Why  don't  you  wait  till  he 
rides  in  ?  Maybe  he  could  help  you  out." 

"  Good  idea,"  nodded  Tom.     "  We  will." 

He  dismounted,  loosened  cinches,  watered  his  horse  in 
the  tiny  brook  running  from  the  spring  behind  the  house 
and  made  himself  comfortable  in  the  shade  of  a  cotton- 
wood.  Red  remained  in  the  saddle.  He  looked  after 
his  brother,  whimsical  disapproval  written  large  upon 
his  countenance. 

"  Tom  never  did  have  no  manners,"  he  confided  to 
the  girl.  "  Then  again,  he  don't  like  ladies,  Tom  don't. 
Outside  o'  that,  he's  all  right,  if  he  is  my  brother." 

"  That's  a  strong-lookin'  pony,"  said  the  girl  critically, 
ignoring  Red's  persiflage. 

"  He  is,"  nodded  Red,  "  but  he  ain't  nothin'  to  my  li'l 
black  the  bandits  rustled.  That  was  a  hoss.  If  I  ever 
catch  the  sports  that  run  him  off,  I'll  shore  make  'em  hard 


The   Sudden    Lady  17 

to  find.  I  guess  I'll  just  water  this  feller  if  you  don't 
mind." 

He  nodded  to  her,  put  on  his  hat,  rode  to  the  brook  and 
allowed  his  mount  an  even  ten  swallows.  Then  he  rode 
back  to  the  kitchen.  The  girl  had  deserted  the  window 
for  the  doorway.  She  stood  with  her  arms  folded  across 
the  breast  of  her  man's  flannel  shirt  and  watched  him  with 
bright,  alert  eyes. 

"  You're  careful  of  a  horse,"  she  said,  smiling  up  at 
him.  "  Ten's  all  I  allow  when  they're  hot,  too,  but 
people  as  a  rule  don't  care  much.  They  think  a  cow- 
pony'll  stand  anythin'." 

"  People  are  careless,"  he  told  her,  dismounting  and 
crooking  his  arm  round  the  saddle-horn.  "  Awful  care 
less.  Sometimes  they're  careless  in  what  they  say  —  an' 
do  —  an'  hurt  folks'  feelin's  without  meanin'  to." 

She  nodded.     She  caught  his  meaning  perfectly. 

"  I  don't  believe  you've  looked  in  our  corral  yet,"  said 
she. 

"  I  don't  need  to  —  now,"  was  his  answer. 

"  How  do  you  know  I'm  not  a  bold,  bad  horse-thief  ? 
I  might  be.  I  might  have  stolen  the  fifty  thousand,  too. 
You  don't  know.  They  say  a  nester  will  do  anythin'." 

A  certain  bitterness  underlay  her  tone  and  words.  It 
would  seem  that  nestering,  for  this  curly-headed  girl,  had 
not  been  an  easy  path  to  follow.  Red  Kane  looked 
straight  into  her  black  eyes. 

"  I  never  said  nothin'  about  nesters,"  he  declared. 

'*  You're  a  cow-man  like  all  the  rest.  At  least,  I  sup 
pose  you're  a  cow-man." 

"  I'm  a  puncher  all  right,  but  I  believe  in  livin'  an'  let- 
tin'  live.  She's  a  free  country." 

"  Some  folks  seem  to  think  differently." 

"  Some  folks  always  do.  Wouldn't  be  a  human  world 
if  they  didn't.  You  got  a  right  nice  li'l  place  here." 

This  was  the  boldest  flattery,  for  a  more  dilapidated 


i  8  Lynch   Lawyers 

residence  than  the  K  C  ranch-house  would  be  difficult  to 
find.  The  roof  had  fallen  in  at  one  end,  and  every  win 
dow  lacked  glass.  The  kitchen  door  hung  slantingly 
from  leather  hinges,  and  the  weather-worn  skeleton  of  a 
cow  that  had  died  of  big  jaw  gleamed  whitely  through 
the  tall  grass  beside  the  kitchen  chimney. 

The  girl  looked  sharply  at  Red.  But  there  was  no 
sarcasm  in  the  puncher's  expression.  He  had  merely 
meant  to  be  polite. 

"  I'll  have  it  lookin'  like  somethin'  in  time,"  she  said. 
"  Haven't  had  much  chance  yet.  We  only  pulled  in  yes 
terday.  The  wagons  aren't  all  unloaded  yet." 

"All?" 

"  We've  two  wagons  —  and  there's  just  the  two  of  us, 
dad  and  I.  Funny,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Funny  ?     Why,  I  dunno  —  " 

"  I  can  tell  just  what  you're  thinkin'  about,  Mister 
Man.  Your  face  is  like  big  print.  You're  wonderin' 
about  us.  Two  wagons,  and  nesters  usually  have  but  one 
and  a  pair  of  three-legged  crow-baits  cuddlin'  the  pole, 
and  nothin'  much  to  do  with,  take  'em  all  round.  I  won 
der  are  these  folks  all  right.  That's  what  you're  thinkin', 
I  can  tell.  Can't  fool  me."  The  girl  threw  up  her  chin 
and  laughed  a  hard  mirthless  laugh.  "  You  citizens  are 
the  most  suspicious  lot  I  ever  saw,"  she  continued.  "  You 
think  nobody  has  a  right  on  earth  but  your  own  high  and 
mighty  selves.  He's  a  nester,  is  he?  Rub  him  out,  if  it 
can  be  done  legally  or  half-legally.  Run  off  his  cattle  and 
horses,  anyway.  Make  trouble  for  him  till  he  has  to  pick 
up  and  move  again.  But  I  guess  we're  here  to  stay, 
Mister  Man." 

She  stared  at  him  defiantly.  Taken  aback  by  her  out 
burst,  he  essayed  a  feeble  grin. 

"  I  hope  yuh  do  stay,  ma'am.  I'd  be  shore  sorry  to  see 
yuh  go.  I  dunno  why  yuh  think  yuh  won't  be  treated 
right  here." 


The   Sudden    Lady  19 

"Do  you  know  the  88  ranch?"  she  asked  abruptly. 
"  We  came  by  there,  and  the  manager  was  pretty  disa 
greeable." 

"  Lanpher,  huh  ?  He's  that  manager  feller.  Don't 
yuh  care  what  he  says.  He's  so  tight  across  the  chest  he 
can't  unbutton  his  vest,  and  he's  too  mean  to  catch  cold. 
He  even  hates  himself,  the  lizard.  Don't  yuh  think  of 
him  a-tall.  We  don't." 

"  I  see.  Well,  you  can  go  on  about  your  business 
whenever  you  feel  like  it,  you  and  your  brother." 

Red's  surprised  jaws  dropped  with  almost  an  audible 
click. 

"  I  thought  you  asked  us  to  stay  till  yore  father  got 
home,"  he  puzzled. 

"  I  did.  I  didn't  know  then  what  I  know  now,  and  I 
don't  want  you  round  any  longer.  Slide,  the  two-  of  you. 
Go  on  back  to  Lanpher,  and  tell  him  '  Dot '  Lorimer  said 
to  come  himself  next  time." 

With  the  words  she  reached  behind  the  door  and 
brought  out  a  Winchester  and  trained  the  firearm  on  Red 
Kane's  stomach.  Tom  Kane  got  hastily  to  his  feet. 
Red  did  not  move. 

'*  You  by  the  spring,"  said  the  girl,  not  removing  her 
eyes  from  Red's  amazed  face,  "  climb  on  your  horse  and 
wander.  One  wrong  move  and  your  brother  gets  a  pill." 

Red  Kane  hooked  his  thumbs  over  his  hat. 

"  Ma'am,"  he  cried,  "  would  you  mind  tellin'  me,  be 
fore  I  go,  why  you  said,  '  Go  back  to  Lanpher  '  ?  " 

"  Because  you're  one  of  his  men.     Now  —  " 

"  But  I  ain't.     What  makes  yuh  think  I  am?  " 

"  Don't  lie  to  me.  Get  aboard  and  get  a-goin'.  I've 
fooled  with  you  long  enough.  Drag  it !  " 

Without  another  word  Red  Kane  swung  up  and  fol 
lowed  his  departing  brother. 

"  Nice  sociable  lady,"  sputtered  Tom  Kane  when  Red 
joined  him.  "  You'd  think  we  was  bandits  or  somethin'. 


2O  Lynch    Lawyers 


I'll  bet  she'd  'a'  plugged  yuh,  Red,  if  yuh'd  wiggled  yore 
ear  at  her." 

"  Shore  she  would,"  agreed  Red.  "  She  had  the  old 
cannon  headed  straight  where  my  dinner's  gonna  be  an' 
her  finger  on  the  trigger.  Yessir,  she's  shore  a  jim  hicky, 
that  girl." 

Tom  Kane  caught  the  enthusiasm  in  Red's  tone. 

"  You  act  like  she'd  done  somethin'  amusin',  instead  of 
offerin'  to  blow  yore  lights  out."  Tom's  voice  was  a 
raucous  snarl. 

"Well,  they  was  my  lights,  an'  still  are,"  Red  said 
equably.  "  I  like  her  spirit,  I  do.  Gimme  a  girl  with  git- 
up-an'-git  to  her  every  time." 

"  Yo're  welcome  to  her —  This  way,  Red,  if  we're 
goin'  down  between  Sweetwater  an'  the  Sandy  Hills  —  I 
don't  want  nothin'  to  do  with  her  myself." 

"  You  wouldn't  stand  no  show  with  her  anyhow. 
What  do  you  know  about  women  ?  " 

"Nothin',  thank  Gawd,  an'  I  don't  wanna,  neither.  I 
got  sense  thataway.  You  go  fussin'  round  a  woman,  an', 
before  yuh  know  it,  yo're  in  love  with  her,  an'  next  yuh 
know  yo're  married.  Then  you  are  up  a  stump." 

"  Oh,  I  dunno.  A  feller  might  be  a  lot  worse  off  than 
married." 

"  Yeah,  he  might  be  dead." 

"  You  dunno.     You  never  was  either." 

"  An'  I'm  gonna  claw  free  o'  both  while  I  got  my 
health.  What  do  you  guess  made  her  search  out  her  gun 
anyway?  I  was  watchin'  the  pair  of  yuh,  an'  I  didn't  see 
you  do  nothin'." 

"  I  didn't.  I  was  just  talkin'  to  her,  an'  all  of  a  sudden 
she  sort  o'  looked  past  me,  an'  her  eyes  got  hard.  Next  I 
knowed  she  was  holdin'  the  gun  on  me  an'  tellin'  me  what 
to  do." 

"Looked  past  yuh?" 

"  Shore  —  over  my  shoulder  like." 


The   Sudden   Lady  21 

"What  at?" 

"  How'd  I  know  —  by  —  !  "  Red  jerked  his  horse  to 
a  sliding  halt  and  slid  to  the  ground.  "  Look  at  that!  " 
he  exclaimed,  pointing  at  the  name  and  brand  carved  on 
the  front  of  the  saddle's  cantle.  "  '  Jack  Owens,  88.' 
This  here  is  Jack  Owens'  old  saddle,  an'  I  never  thought. 
O'  course  she  got  suspicious  prompt  an'  sudden  when  she 
seen  that.  I  dunno,"  he  added,  mounting  and  wheeling 
his  horse,  "  but  what  I'll  go  back  an'  tell  her  it's  all  a 
mistake." 

"  I  would !  "  cried  his  brother,  as  a  puff  of  gray  smoke 
clouded  across  the  kitchen  doorway  of  the  ranch-house 
and  a  bullet  buzzed  overhead.  "  I  shore  would,  if  I  was 
you !  The  range  ain't  over  eight  hundred  yards,  an'  the 
next  piece  o'  lead  might  not  flip  past  up  yonder.  It  might 
sift  through  yore  thick  head.  I'm  tellin'  yuh  that  female 
means  business." 

"  Aw,  she  ain't  to  blame !  "  protested  Red,  reluctantly 
turning  his  horse's  head.  "  Appearances  is  against  us." 

"  An'  she's  shore  agreein'  witli  appearances  steady  an' 
strong.  There  goes  another." 

A  bullet  kissed  the  earth  twenty  yards  to  the  left, 
struck  a  rock  and  ripped  off  at  an  acute  angle  with  a  high 
shrill  whine. 

"  Ain't  she  a  jo-darter?  "  grinned  Red,  chin  on  shoul 
der,  looking  back  at  the  ranch-house  as  he  jogged  along. 

"  I  dunno  what  she  is,"  Tom  Kane  said  disgustedly, 
"  but  I  know  yo're  a  fool.  'Fore  I'd  let  a  female  jerk  me 
down  that-away !  Why,  one  minute  after  you  seen  her, 
you  forgot  what  you  was  doin'.  You  even  forgot  yore 
li'l  black  hoss.  Yes,  yuh  did.  Can't  tell  me  yuh  didn't. 
I  know  better.  Yuh  didn't  even  try  to  look  in  the  corral 
after  she  spoke." 

"  I  didn't  need  to,  but  I'm  gamblin'  you  did." 

"  You  better  believe  I  did.  I  ain't  lettin'  no  curly  hair 
tangle  up  my  eyesight." 


2  2  Lynch   Lawyers 


"  Yuh  didn't  see  the  rustled  hosses  in  the  corral,  did 
'yuh?" 

"  Naturally  not,  or  I  would  'a'  said  so.  They  was  eight 
hosses  in  that  corral,  all  collar-marked.  D  Both  Ways 
right  hip  was  the  iron  on  two  of  'em.  Couldn't  see  the 
others.  They  was  headin'  wrong." 

"  Seein'  they  was  all  team  hosses,  you  was  a  heap  dis 
appointed,  huh  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  say  so." 

"  Yuh  didn't  have  to.  Yuh  looked  it,  old  sour-ball. 
Tom,  yore  milk  o'  human  kindness  is  all  addled  up. 
Sometimes  I  wonder  can  this  mistrustin',  fault-fmdin' 
undertaker  with  the  face  long  like  a  pony's  be  my  brother. 
Yessir,  that  shore  bothers  me  a  lot  sometimes." 

"  Nemmine  about  my  milk  o'  human  kindness.  I  don't 
go  spillin'  it  round  promiscuous  like  other  folks  I  know 
of.  N esters,  an'  you  a  cow-man!  " 

"  Not  nesters,  nester,  frosty- face.  I  dunno  nothin' 
against  Paw  Lorimer,  but  Miss  Dot  Lorimer  is  shore  the 
one  for  my  money.  Yessir,  Tom,  y'  ol'  coffee-cooler, 
that's  that  li'l  lady  I'm  gonna  marry." 

Tom  gulped,  gasped,  ran  two  fingers  round  the  inside 
of  his  collar,  rubbed  both  ears  anfl  shook  his  head  vigor 
ously. 

"  Somethin's  gone  wrong  with  my  hearin',"  he  an 
nounced  after  an  anxious  moment.  "  I  shore  thought 
you  said  that  nester  lady  was  the  one  you  was  gonna 
marry." 

'  You  heard  right."     Red  placidly  eyed  his  brother. 

"  There,  I'm  hearin'  funny  noises  again,"  Tom  cried  in 
alarm. 

"  You  ain't  hearin'  no  funny  noises,  feller.  Yo're 
hearin'  the  truth.  I  ain't  surprised  yuh  don't  know  it, 
yuh  use  it  so  seldom." 

Tom  ignored  the  slander. 

"  Yuh  don't  like  her  already!  "  he  exclaimed.     "  Yuh 


The   Sudden    Lady  23 

can't !  Why,  yuh  just  seen  her.  Aw,  Red,  whatsa  mat 
ter  with  yuh  ?  Are  yuh  crazy  ?  " 

"  Yeah,  I'm  crazy  —  crazy  like  a  fox.  You  heard  me, 
I'm  gonna  marry  that  girl.  She  dunno  it  yet,  but  she 
will." 

"  That's  good.  You'll  tell  her  before  yuh  marry  her, 
huh?  She'd  like  to  know  maybe.  Women  are  funny 
thataway." 

"  An  yo're  tryin'  to  be  an'  makin'  a  boggy  ford  of  it. 
Listen  here,  Tom,  I'm  tellin'  yuh  about  this,  but  I'm 
expectin'  yuh  to  keep  it  behind  yore  front  teeth,  see." 

"  Don't  yuh  fret,  I  ain't  anxious  to  have  folks  know 
what  a  idjit  they  is  in  the  family.  Nawsir,  not  me.  I'll 
never  tell.  I'll  keep  it  under  my  hat  same's  if  it  was  fits 
or  web-feet." 


CHAPTER    FOUR 

THE    NESTER 

"  WE  didn't  find  no  tracks  round  Sweetwater,"  said 
Red  reporting  to  Kansas  Casey  in  the  sheriff's  office  at 
Farewell.  "  We  scouted  past  that  gap  between  the  moun 
tain  an'  the  Sandy  Hills,  too,  but  we  didn't  find  one  smid 
gin'  of  a  track.  Did  any  o'  the  others  find  anythin'  ?  " 

"  They  did  not,  nary  a  find.  She's  a  mystery.  Here 
we  was  out  four  days  an'  rode  our  hosses  down  to  whis 
pers  an'  no  luck  a-tall.  An'  three  days  ago,  while  we  was 
gone,  two  sports  held  up  the  stage  south  of  Injun  Ridge 
an'  went  through  the  passengers." 

"  Kill  anybody?" 

"  Naw,  but  they  got  five  watches  an'  about  a  thousand 
dollars,  which  ain't  a  bad  ten  minutes'  work,  even  countin' 
in  the  risk." 

"  Who  was  ridin'  shotgun  ?  " 

"  Nobody.  They  wasn't  carryin'  no  box  that  trip. 
An'  the  bandits  expected  a  box  too,  an'  give  everybody 
aboard  a  cussin'  'cause  she  wasn't  there.  Looks  like  old 
times  shore  once  again." 

"  They's  a-plenty  cottonwoods,"  Red  observed  dryly, 
"  an'  we  all  got  ropes." 

"  You'll  be  needin'  'em  before  we're  through,  not  that 
I  hold  with  lynchin',  officially  speakin',  me  bein'  a  deputy 
sheriff  as  duly  made  and  provided,  but  I  got  my  own  idea 
o'  what's  the  best  cure  for  the  road-agent  business." 

"  Did  yuh  tell  Kansas  about  the  nesters  ?  "  inquired 
Tom  Kane,  looking  up  from  his  task  of  greasing  wagon- 


The   Nester  25 

wheels  as  his  brother  scuffed  round  the  corner  of  the 
house. 

"  Shore  not,"  replied  Red,  sitting  down  on  a  handy 
case.  "  Question  :  What  business  is  it  o'  his  ?  Answer : 
Why,  no  business  a-tall.  Got  the  makin's?  " 

"  They're  in  the  shack,  but  nemmine  about  no  makin's 
now.  Gimme  a  hand  with  these  wheels,  you  lazy  cow- 
wrastler,  instead  o'  sittin'  there  a-wearin'  out  my  packin'- 
cases  with  the  seat  o'  yore  pants.  There's  the  wrench, 
an'  there's  a  box  of  axle-dope.  Hop  to  it,  feller." 

"  Lordy,"  groaned  Red,  "  don't  I  never  get  a  chance 
to  rest?" 

"  Not  round  me  yuh  don't.  When  yuh  goin'  back  to 
the  Bar  S?" 

"  When  Piney  Jackson  gets  the  buckboard  fixed.  He 
ain't  got  a  light  wheel  in  stock,  an'  he's  gotta  make  all 
new  spokes.  Piney  knows  how  to  charge,  too.  Old 
Salt'H  roar  like  a  bull  when  he  gets  the  bill.  He'll  make 
out  it's  all  my  fault  somehow." 

"  Betcha  he  tries  to  take  it  out  o'  yore  wages,"  was 
Tom's  bright  suggestion. 

"  Tryin'  an'  doin'  ain't  even  in  the  same  corral.  Aw, 
Old  Salt's  all  right  so  long's  yuh  watch  him." 

"  So's  a  mule.  Yuh'll  never  screw  on  the  nut  thata- 
way,  Red.  It's  a  left-hand  thread.  Don't  yuh  know 
nothin'  ?  " 

In  this  wise  the  wheel-greasing  proceeded  to  a  success 
ful  close  and  the  driven  Red  fled  to  the  Blue  Pigeon  Store. 
Here  he  found  Kansas  Casey  deep  in  conversation  with 
Mike  Flynn,  the  proprietor. 

"  I'm  feelin'  a  heap  proud  to-day,"  Red  announced, 
grinning  at  the  two  men,  "  an'  I  guess  I'll  buy  me  a  shirt. 
I  always  gotta  buy  somethin'  when  I  feel  proud." 

'  You  ain't  got  nothin'  to  be  proud  about,"  Kansas  said 
seriously.  "  Do  you  see  anythin'  he's  got  to  be  proud  of, 
Mike?" 


26  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  Wait  till  after  I  sell  him  his  shirt,"  smiled  the  Irish 
man.  "  Any  partic'lar  kind,  Red?  " 

"  They's  one  yonder  on  the  fourth  shelf  right  behind 
yuh  looks  kind  o'  good.  Yeah,  that  one.  Them  li'l 
purple  hoss-shoes  sprinkled  all  over  the  gray  makes  it  look 
a  heap  festive,  don't  it  ?  " 

"  Shore  does,"  concurred  Kansas.  "  All  you  need  now 
is  a  yaller  han'kerchief  round  yore  neck  an'  leave  yore  hat 
off  an'  folks  will  shore  see  sunset  a-comin'." 

"  Nemmine  about  my  hair.  I  know  she's  red,  an'  that's 
a  good  color,  —  lucky  too.  Only  the  best  people  has  red 
hair.  If  yuh'll  notice,  they  ain't  so  many  of  us,  but  what 
they  is  is  fine  strain  ,an'  corn-fed,  y'betcha.  Lookit  me 
now.  Where'll  you  find  a  better  feller,  take  him  all 
round,  huh?  I'm  askin' yuh,  an' yuh  can't  answer.  No, 
of  course  not." 

"  How  strong  the  breeze  is  to-day,  Mike,"  observed 
Kansas.  "  They  must  be  a  window  open  some'ers/' 

"  They  is,"  said  Red.  "  Several.  All  yuh  gotta  do  is 
lay  back  an'  enjoy  it.  She's  free,  all  free.  Yuh'd  oughta 
appreciate  it,  'stead  o'  prancin'  round  makin'  remarks. 
Ain't  that  so,  Mike?  Nemmine,  don't  answer.  Maybe 
he  might  hold  it  against  yuh,  an'  go  over  to  Galloway's 
for  his  makings.  How  much  did  yuh  say  that  shirt  was  ? 
Two  dollars  four-bits,  huh?  Here  y'  are.  If  she  wears 
out  under  a  year,  I'll  lay  for  yuh  an'  burn  the  store." 

"  Lemme  know  when  you're  comin',"  Mike  requested 
serenely.  "  Hello,  Tom." 

"  'Lo,  Mike."  Tom,  entering,  looked  hard  at  the  news 
paper-wrapped  bundle  under  his  brother's  arm.  "  Bet 
he's  done  one  o'  two  things,  Red  has  —  he's  either  bought 
one  shirt  or  two." 

"  One,"  tattled  Kansas.     "  Ain't  he  the  spendthrift?  " 

"  He's  worse'n  that,"  Tom  averred,  fixing  his  brother 
with  a  gloomy  stare.  "  A  shirt !  A  new  shirt !  It  must 
be  true.  He's  a  goner." 


The   Nester  27 

"  Web-feet  an'  fits !  Web-feet  an'  fits !  "  Red  bawled 
to  head  him  off. 

"  That's  what  it  is  all  right,"  grunted  Tom,  and 
marched  out,  rank  disapproval  in  every  line  of  his  stiff 
back. 

Kansas  Casey  seized  the  lobe  of  his  right  ear  and 
moved  it  slowly  to  and  fro. 

"  You  like  to  deefened  me  with  yore  *  web-feet  an' 
fits  ',"  he  told  Red.  "  Next  time  you  go  to  whirlin'  yore 
voice,  whirl  her  the  other  way.  An'  what  is  '  web-feet 
an'  fits'  anyhow  ?  " 

"  What  yuh  wanna  know  for  ?     Did  yuh  lose  any  ?  " 

At  this  point  diversion  was  created  by  the  entrance  of  a 
stranger.  He  was  a  long,  lean  citizen,  this  stranger,  with 
lank  black  hair,  sharp  blue  eyes  and  bat  ears.  He  wore 
two  guns  and  an  air  of  great  alertness. 

The  bat-eared  one  leaned  hip-shot  against  the  counter 
and  nodded  to  Mike  Flynn. 

"  Got  any  Winchester  ,45's?  "  he  asked. 

"  Shore." 

"  I'll  take  four  boxes  o'  them  an'  six  for  my  Colts,  same 
caliber,  an'  —  " 

Here  the  bat-eared  man  was  interrupted  by  a  strange 
and  raucous  voice  squawking : 

"  Help !  Help !  Don't  kill  me !  Gimme  that  ax ! 
Oh,  my  Gawd  in  heaven !  That's  right !  Cut  her  yellow 
throat!  What  you  think  it  that  feller  him  got?  Two 
dead  men  lib  for  beach!  What's  the  odds!  Stick  her 
again !  She  stole  my  watch !  Murder !  Murder !  Mur 
der!  Gawd  bless  our  home  and  make  me  a  good  boy! 
Get  outa  here,  you  dirty  dog!  " 

At  the  first  words  uttered  by  the  raucous  voice  the  bat- 
eared  man  sprang  backward  a  yard  and  drew  both  guns. 
Crouching  forward,  his  narrow-slitted  eyes  swept  the 
counter.  Muscles  in  cheek  and  jaw  quivered  tensely. 

Marked  interest  flickered  in  the  eyes  of  Kansas  Casey 


28  Lynch   Lawyers 

and  Red  Kane.  They  watched  the  bat-eared  man  cu 
riously.  From  behind  the  counter  Mike  Flynn  smiled  re 
assuringly  at  the  bat-eared  man  and  flung  up  a  hand,  palm 
pacifically  outward. 

"If  yo're  gonna  shoot,"  calmly  remarked  Mr.  Flynn, 
"  I'd  take  it  kindly  if  yuh'd  p'int  them  carronades  out 
doors." 

The  bat-eared  man  straightened  slowly.  His  gaze  did 
not  waver  from  the  eyes  of  Mike  Flynn.  Realizing  that 
hostilities  were  unwarranted,  the  bat-eared  gentleman  slid 
his  guns  into  their  holsters. 

"  I  been  sick,"  vouchsafed  the  bat-eared  one  quietly. 
"  I  ain't  well  yet  —  not  complete.  Still  nervous  —  some 
times.  What  made  that  noise  ?  " 

Mike  Flynn  stooped  behind  the  counter  and  groped 
purposefully  among  cans.  When  he  straightened  there 
roosted  on  his  doubled  fist  a  parrot,  green  and  red,  with  a 
mild  and  filmy  eye.  The  bird  stared  solemnly  about  him. 
Balancing  on  one  foot  it  scratched  its  head  and  giggled. 

"  I  saw  yer  steal  the  whiskey,"  the  parrot  observed  in 
a  raucous  but  remarkably  human  voice.  "  I'll  tell  Tom,  I 
will.  I'll  wring  yer  neck,  see  if  I  don't!  'Alf  an'  'alf ! 
Gimme  a  kiss !  I  love  yer !  Cross  my  heart !  Grab  her ! 
Grab  her !  Kill  the  cop !  Kill  the  cop !  There  goes  the 
window.  Don't  let  her  get  away!  Smash  her  face  in 
and  throw  her  out  in  the  alley !  Hellelujah !  Hallelujah ! 
Gawd  bless  my  soul !  Who's  a  good  boy  ?  I  am !  " 

The  parrot  ceased  talking  and  with  its  beak  proceeded 
industriously  to  search  the  back  of  its  neck.  A  slight 
smile  parted  the  thin  lips  of  the  bat-eared  man.  He 
pushed  back  his  hat  and  rubbed  a  wide  forehead. 

"Ain't  she  the  hellion?"  chuckled  Mike  Flynn,  tick 
ling  the  parrot  between  the  eyes.  "  She  shore  knows  a 
lot,  Percival  does." 

"  She  ?  Percival  ?  "  The  bat-eared  one  stared  inquir 
ingly  at  Mike  Flynn. 


The   Nester  29 

"  She  thinks  she's  a  boy,"  explained  Mike,  "  but  I  know 
better.  The  first  thing  she  done  after  gittin'  in  from  the 
Coast  was  lay  an  egg  in  me  hat.  She  has  no  morals,  the 
crayture." 

"  I  can  lick  yer  with  one  hand !  "  screamed  the  parrot. 
"  And  I  will  if  yer  don't  shut  up !  Oh,  my  Gawd,  you've 
killed  her!  I  told  yer  not  to  use  a  knife!  Hurrah  for 
the  bloody  duster !  " 

"  She's  seen  life,  has  Percival,"  smiled  Mike  Flynn, 
"  an'  death  too,  I'm  thinkin'.  There,  yuh  divil,  in  wit' 
yuh." 

He  tossed  the  bird  through  the  open  door  of  the  cage 
on  a  shelf  at  his  back,  closed  the  door,  and  pulled  a  black 
cloth  over  the  cage. 

"  There  now,"  he  continued,  "  she'll  kape  quiet.  Any- 
thin'  else  besides  the  cartridges,  Mister?  " 

"  Twenty- four  can  tomatters  an'  six  boxes  matches," 
replied  the  bat-eared  man,  now  wholly  at  his  ease.  "  Got 
any  milk,  Hyacinth  brand,  huh?  Aw  right,  twelve  cans 
an'  twenty  pounds  o'  coffee.  Any  candy,  have  yuh?  " 

"  Dozen  pails  came  in  this  mornin'  —  chocolates  an' 
hard  candies,  half  an'  half." 

"  I'll  take  a  pail  o'  the  chocolate.  My  daughter  likes 
chocolate  candies,  she  does.  An'  yuh  might  wrap  up 
three  —  four  pounds  peppermint  sticks.  Them  striped 
like  a  barber's  pole.  She  likes  them,  too.  I  guess  that'll 
be  about  all." 

Kansas  Casey,  sitting  on  the  counter  and  swinging 
spurred  heels,  looked  idly  out  through  the  doorway  into 
dusty  Main  Street. 

When  the  bat-eared  man  departed  with  his  purchases, 
Kansas  Casey  was  still  looking  through  the  doorway. 
He  watched  the  bat-eared  man  drop  his  bulging  sack  be 
hind  the  seat  of  an  extremely  sway-backed  buckboard  and 
make  it  fast  with  a  lariat.  He  watched  the  man  untie  his 
team,  heave  his  lanky  body  into  the  seat  and  drive  away. 


30  Lynch   Lawyers 

In  the  light  of  recent  events  Kansas  Casey  had  more  than 
a  passing  interest  in  strangers.  - 

"  Who's  that,  Mike?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  never  seen  him  before,"  was  the  Irishman's  answer. 
"  I  did  hear  how  they  was  a  nester  throwed  down  over 
near  Sweetwater  Mountain.  Maybe  it's  him." 

"  Maybe.  I  heard  o'  that  nester,  too.  Do  you  know 
this  gent,  Red  ?  " 

"Who?  Me?"  Kane  replied  carelessly.  "I  guess 
maybe  it  might  be  him  —  that  nester,  yuh  can't  tell. 
Name's  Lorimer,  or  somethin'  like  that." 

"  Oh,"  said  Kansas  Casey,  and  he  appeared  to  reflect. 
"  Kind  o'  loosened  up  on  the  language  after  Percival  made 
his  li'l  speech,  didn't  he?" 

"  Shore  did.  He  was  sort  o'  dumb  an'  dumpish-like 
before."  Thus  Red  Kane,  extracting  tobacco  from  a 
shirtpocket. 

"  Guess  maybe  he  must  'a'  been  right  serious-sick  to 
have  nerves  that  bad,  the  poor  fellah,"  Mike  said  with  a 
knowing  wink. 

"  Yeah,  I  guess  —  I  guess  maybe."  Kansas  Casey  did 
not  glance  at  Mike  Flynn.  He  looked  fixedly  at  the  toes 
of  his  own  boots. 

"  Aw,  he's  all  right,"  declared  Red  Kane  warmly. 

"  Who  said  he  wasn't?  "  Kansas  Casey  looked  hard  at 
Red  Kane. 

"  Well,  yuh  don't  have  to  say  much  to  mean  a  whole 
lot." 

"  Which  goes  double,"  grinned  Kansas.  "  What  was 
that  he  said  about  his  daughter?  " 

"  Daughter?  "  Red  Kane  exclaimed  in  a  surprised  tone. 
"  Did  he  say  anythin'  about  a  daughter?  " 

"Didn't  he,  Mike?" 

"  Shore  did.     Bought  the  candy  for  her,  he  said." 

"  Le's  you'n  me  go  get  a  drink,  Red,"  suggested  Kan 
sas,  slipping  to  the  floor  with  a  thud  and  a  jingle. 


The   Nester  31 

"  We'll  get  two  drinks,"  amended  Red  Kane,  following 
his  friend  to  the  street.  "  Where  yuh  goin',  Kansas? 
That  ain't  the  way  to  the  Happy  Heart." 

"  Nemmine  about  that  drink  —  now.  This  here  freight 
wagon  is  where  we're  a-goin',  an'  we're  gonna  sit  on  the 
tongue,  you'n  me  together,  an'  yo're  gonna  tell  me  se 
crets." 

"  You've  got  'em  unusual  bad  to-day,  Kansas,"  Red 
assured  him  seriously.  "  I  always  knowed,  if  yuh  kept 
on  a-lappin'  it  up  an'  a-lappin'  it  up  all  same  sponge,  yuh'd 
go  loco.  An'  yuh  have,  an'  yuh've  went." 

"  Whadda  yuh  know  about  that  jigger  Lorimer,  Red?  " 
inquired  Kansas,  coming  straight  to  the  point. 

"Who?  Me?"  Red  Kane  elevated  surprised  eye 
brows. 

"Yuri  done  said  'Who?  Me?'  before.  Change 
hosses,  Red.  It's  '  What  ?  Him  ? '  " 

"  Oh,  yeah,  o'  course,  shore,  an'  all  like  that.  What  do 
yuh  think  I  am,  a  cyclophobia  ?  I  dunno  all  the  nesters  in 
the  country,  do  I  ?  " 

Red  Kane  glared  indignantly  at  Kansas  Casey.  The 
latter  grinned  back. 

"Don't  tell  me,"  said  Kansas.  "Yuh've  seen  that 
daughter  anyhow.  Don't  try  to  tell  me  different.  Why 
did  yuh  stick  up  for  him  there  in  the  Blue  Pigeon  less 
yuh  had  some  reason?  " 

"  I  might  have  lots  o'  reasons  —  whole  herds  o'  rea 
sons,  an'  none  of  'em  yore  business." 

"  There  yuh  go  gettin'  mad  just  'cause  I  hinted  this 
gent  wasn't  maybe  always  a  holy  Christian." 

"  I  ain't  gettin'  mad'!  "  Red  denied  vigorously. 

"  Then  what  yuh  gettin'  all  red  about?  "  jibed  Kansas. 
"  The  daughter,  what's  she  like  ?  Hell's  bells,  ain't  I  yore 
best  friend?  Don't  yuh  glom  all  my  tobacco  alia  time? 
Don't  I  ride  yore  hosses  for  yuh  an'  bust  'em  gentle  when 
you  ain't  able  ?  Shore  I  do  —  all  that,  an'  more.  An' 


3  2  Lynch   Lawyers 

here  yuh  turn  me  down  cold.  Yo're  a  suspicious  cuss, 
Red.  Always  lookin'  on  the  black  side.  Never  trust 
nobody,  you  don't.  I'll  bet  you  think  I  really  wanna  go 
over  to  Sweetwater  Mountain  an'  cut  yuh  out  or  some- 
thin'." 

"  I  ain't  never  been  to  Lorimer's  ranch  but  once,  not 
that  she's  any  o'  yore  business  like  I  said  previous." 

"  She's  a  wide,  free  world,  an'  I  ain't  sayin'  yuh  know 
Lorimer  —  I  don't  think  yuh  do,  or  yuh'd  'a'  spoke  there 
in  the  store  —  but  yuh've  done  met  up  with  the  girl  some- 
'ers." 

"  What  if  I  have?  "  Red's  eyes  steadily  held  those  of 
Kansas. 

"  Oh,  nothin',  only  I'd  like  yuh  to  see  somethin'  I  got 
in  the  office." 

Kansas  led  the  way  to  the  sheriff's  office.  The  office 
was  the  front  room  of  the  sheriff's  house.  Jake  Rule, 
the  sheriff  of  Fort  Creek  County,  was  abroad  on  business. 
But  it  was  not  his  custom  to  lock  either  his  house  or  his 
home-made  desk. 

Kansas  opened  the  wide  deskdrawer.  From  the 
drawer  he  drew  a  sheaf  of  notices.  Leafing  through 
them  rapidly,  he  found  that  which  he  sought  and  handed 
it  to  Red  Kane. 

Clipped  of  legal  verbiage,  the  notice  set  forth  that  one 
John  Hudson  was  wanted  for  rustling  and  horse-stealing, 
said  heinous  crimes  having  been  committed  in  Lang 
County.  The  notice  bore  a  date  three  years  old.  It  like 
wise  carried  a  fairly  comprehensive  list  of  John  Hudson's 
salient  characteristics.  One  of  these  points  of  interest 
was  a  bushy  black  beard. 

"  Ben  Lorimer  ain't  got  no  beard  a-tall,"  objected  Red 
Kane. 

"  They's  such  a  thing  as  shavin',"  suggested  Kansas 
Casey.  "  It  has  been  done.  If  you'd  do  it,  it  would  help 
yore  face,  Red." 


The   Nester  3  3 


Red  told  Kansas  where  he  could  go  and  laid  the  notice 
on  the  desk. 

"  You  can't  prove  nothin'  by  this  notice,"  said  Red 
Kane.  "  Besides,  I  don't  believe  he  done  it  anyway." 

"  She  must  be  a  shore  good-looker." 

"  What's  that  gotta  do  with  it  ?  "  wrathf ully. 

"  Nothin',  nothin'  a-tall.  I  was  just  gonna  say  that  I 
guess  I'd  better  climb  on  my  rockin'-hoss  an'  slide  out 
after  this  stranger  an'  sort  o'  look  round  where  he  goes. 
Whadda  you  guess  ?  " 

"  Yo're  on  the  wrong  range,  I  keep  tellin'  yuh !  Why, 
Kansas,  she  wouldn't  let  him  do  nothin'  out  o'  the  way. 
I  know  she  wouldn't.  Aw,  you  make  me  sick!  Yo're 
a  reg'lar  he-wolf !  Yuh  needn't  stand  there  grinnin'  like 
a  chessy-cat.  Yuh  needn't  go  pokin'  fun  neither.  You 
know  I  ain't  no  more  likely  to  help  out  a  hoss  thief  than 
you  are.  But  they  ain't  no  hoss  thieves  in  the  Lorimer 
outfit,  you  can  gamble  on  that." 

"  Alia  same,  here's  this  man  Lorimer  a  dead  ringer  for 
the  sharp  in  this  notice,  leavin'  out  the  beard,  o'  course. 
They's  the  same  thin  lips,  straight  nose,  black  eyes,  black 
hair,  six-foot-two  or  thereabout,  weight  a  hundred  an' 
seventy-five,  quick  in  his  movements  an'  on  the  trigger. 
What  more  do  yuh  want?  Don't  it  all  fit?  " 

"  It  might  fit  a  description  of  you,"  said  Red  sharply. 
"  Yore  lips  ain't  thick,  yore  nose  ain't  crooked,  you  got 
black  hair  an'  eyes,  yore  weight  is  between  one  seventy 
an'  one  eighty,  an'  you  move  quick.  Comin'  right  down 
to  cases  why  don't  yuh  arrest  yoreself  on  suspicion  ?  " 

"  Look  here  —  "  began  Kansas. 

"  Coin'  farther,"  interrupted  Red,  "  they's  Daly  right 
here  in  town.  He  fills  out  that  description  same's  you 
do.  They's  Dunlavy,  the  Wells  Fargo  agent  at  Marys- 
ville.  How  about  him?  " 

"  Aw,  we  all  know  they  didn't  do  it.  We  know  they're 
honest." 


34  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  How  do  we  know  they're  honest  any  more'n  we  know 
this  here  stranger  is  dishonest  ?  " 

"  Well,  he's  a  nester,  this  feller,"  was  Kansas  Casey's 
undeniably  lame  answer. 

"  You  dunno  he's  a  nester.  He  may  be,  an'  he  may  not. 
Yuh  dunno  nothin'  about  him." 

"If  you  don't  think  he  is,  why  you  fightin'  so  hard  for 
him?" 

"Fair  play.     What  else?" 

At  which  Kansas  Casey  was  moved  to  smile,  for  he  had 
never  known  Red  Kane  to  be  so  public  spirited.  But  he 
did  not  smile.  Instead  he  picked  up  the  Lang  County 
notice  and  reread  it. 

"  Here,"  said  he  suddenly,  pointing  to  a  line  of  fine 
print  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  sheet,  "  we  missed  this, 
Red.  It  says  here  John  Hudson  has  a  knife  scar  on  his 
right  arm  half-way  between  elbow  an'  shoulder.  That's 
how  we're  gonna  tell  whether  this  stranger  is  our  John 
Hudson  or  not." 

"  Yore  John  Hudson,"  corrected  Red  Kane  acidly.  "  I 
got  nothin'  to  do  with  this,  an'  yuh  can  stick  a  pin  in  that." 

"  That's  all  right.     Le's  wander." 


CHAPTER   FIVE 

THE    COTTONWOOD 

"  HERE'S  where  he  left  the  trail,"  said  Kansas  Casey, 
glancing  up  from  the  wheelmarks  and  turning  his  horse 
to  follow  them.  "  Strikin'  off  due  east.  Go  yuh  ten  he's 
the  Sweetwater  gent,  Red." 

Red  Kane  shook  his  head.  He  was  too  uncomfortable 
in  his  mind  to  even  smoke.  He  was  not  a  susceptible  per 
son.  Far  from  it.  But  Miss  Dot  Lorimer  had  hit  him 
hard.  He  had  never  seen  any  one  quite  like  her  before. 
That  his  wages  were  forty  a  month  and  "  found  "  troubled 
him  not  at  all.  His  was.  a  hopeful  soul,  and  the  age  was 
a  hopeful  age.  A  strong  man,  provided  he  kept  his  head, 
could  go  far.  With  Dot  Lorimer  as  his  wife,  Red  Kane 
saw  himself  making  wheelmarks  in  the  sands  of  time. 
He  would  save  his  money,  buy  a  few  cows,  start  a  brand 
of  his  own  and  become  a  large  cattleman,  like  his  em 
ployer,  Mr.  Saltoun,  the  owner  of  the  Bar  S.  He  would 
branch  out  in  other  lines  too.  All  rich  men  did.  Mines, 
for  choice.  Yes,  he  thought  he  would  invest  in  mines 
and  become  richer.  And  all  to  the  end  that  the  curly- 
haired  lady  his  wife  might  wear  as  many  diamonds  as 
she  desired.  Red  Kane  had  an  imagination  indeed. 

"  Hey !  "  It  was  a  loud,  healthy  roar  uttered  by  Kan 
sas  Casey. 

Red  Kane  lifted  his  gray  eyes  to  Casey's  face.  "  Did 
yuh  say  somethin'  ?  "  he  asked  softly. 

"  Me  ?  Oh,  no,  I  never  said  nothin'.  I  only  spoke  to 
yuh  four  times,  tha's  all." 


3  6  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  It's  enough.  Was  yuh  doin'  it  for  exercise,  or 
what?" 

"  I  just  wanted  yuh  to  tell  me  the  joke.  You've  been 
a-ridin'  along  a-grinnin'  an'  a-chucklin'  to  yoreself,  an' 
every  now  an'  then  yuh'd  slap  yore  leg  an'  laugh  out 
loud." 

"  That's  shore  funny.  I  always  laugh  out  loud.  I  got 
the  habit  young,  an'  I  never  got  over  it.  Gimme  the 
makin's,  will  yuh  ?  " 

Kansas  Casey  handed  across  tobacco  and  papers.  Red 
Kane  helped  himself  and  handed  them  back. 

"  Wouldn't  yuh  like  a  match?"  Kansas  inquired  sar 
castically. 

"  No,  I  got  one.  I  got  tobacco  an'  papers  too,  but  I 
wanna  smoke  yores  up  first,  so's  I  won't  run  short. 
Nothin'  like  lookin'  ahead,  is  they,  Kansas  ?  " 

"  I've  met  up  with  gall,"  the  other  declared  bitterly, 
"  all  kinds  o'  gall,  but  yores  puts  the  hat  on  the  climax." 

"  Now  that's  a  real  compliment,"  Red  told  him.  "  That 
makes  me  feel  like  life's  worth  livin'  after  all.  I  used  to 
have  my  doubts,  but  not  now.  Just  for  that,  old-timer, 
when  we  get  back  to  Farewell  I'll  let  you  buy  me  a  drink. 
No,  I'll  let  you  buy  me  two  drinks.  It's  worth  that." 

"  I'll  buy  you  some  rock  salt  an'  feed  it  to  you  through 
a  shotgun,"  snarled  Kansas,  ostentatiously  stuffing  his 
tobacco  and  papers  into  the  inside  pocket  of  his  vest. 

"  I'd  put  a  padlock  on  that  pocket  if  I  was  you,"  was 
Red's  suggestion,  "  then  yuh  shore  won't  lose  nothin'." 

"  I  would  if  I  had  one,"  cried  Kansas,  "but  then  that 
wouldn't  stop  yuh  if  yuh  really  got  thirsty  for  a  smoke." 

"  No?  "  Red  smiled  slightly  and  with  the  butt  of  his 
quirt  tickled  the  deputy's  horse  behind  the  saddle. 

Now  the  average  Western  horse  is  touchy  of  its  person 
behind  the  saddle.  Casey's  horse  was  a  trifle  more  aver 
age  than  the  average.  Promptly  at  the  flick  of  the  brass- 
bound  butt  across  its  sensitive  skin  it  tucked  its  tail  be- 


The  Cottonwood  37 

tween  its  hind  legs,  its  nose  between  its  forelegs,  humped 
its  back  and  shot  straight  up  in  the  air. 

Kansas  lost  his  hat  and  one  stirrup;  but  he  stuck  and 
he  did  not  pull  leather.  He  belted  the  pony  with  his 
quirt  and  strove  to  jerk  up  its  head.  After  a  moment  he 
succeeded,  and  then  the  curb  strap  parted. 

Now,  a  curb  bit  with  a  broken  strap  is  no  better  than 
the  veriest  snaffle.  At  the  sudden  slackening  of  the  pres-. 
sure  on  its  lower  jaw  the  horse  perceived  the  opportunity 
of  a  lifetime  and  seized  it  with  all  four  feet  and  its  mouth. 
It  clamped  its  teeth,  straightened  its  neck  and,  splitting 
the  wind  with  crackling  nostrils,  raced  across  country  full 
stretch. 

Red,  hooting  with  delight,  retrieved  the  deputy's  hat 
and  followed.  At  the  first  draw  reached  by  the  runaway 
Red  looked  to  see  a  tumble.  But  the  horse  darted  down 
the  near  side  of  the  draw  and  shot  across  the  bottom  with 
never  a  stagger.  Red  rode  more  circumspectly.  His 
mount,  one  of  Kansas  Casey's  horses,  was  one  of  whose 
surefootedness  he  knew  nothing. 

It  is  not  a  surprising  thing  that  Kansas  Casey  was  out 
of  sight  within  three  minutes.  Red,  never  much  of  a 
trailer  at  best,  followed  the  runaway's  trail  as  well  as  he 
could.  Twice  he  lost  it,  but  contrived  to  pick  it  up  on 
the  sides  of  another  draw. 

At  the  end  of  five  miles  of  rapid  going  he  came  upon 
Kansas  Casey  and  his  horse  in  the  middle  of  a  broad  flat 
between  two  hills.  The  horse  was  galloping  madly  in  a 
circle.  Its  outblown  nostrils  flared  red.  Its  breathing 
was  audible  at  two  hundred  yards.  Kansas  was  swaying 
back  on  one  rein  and  whirling  his  quirt  cross-handed. 

"  I'll  teach  yuh  to  run  away !  "  Kansas  was  gritting 
between  his  teeth.  "  I  lay  yore  ribs'll  look  like  a  plowed 
field  when  I  get  through  with  yuh." 

Eight  rounds  of  the  flat  and  the  horse  gave  it  up.  It 
stood  with  hanging  head,  its  flanks  heaving  in  and  out  like 


3  8  Lynch   Lawyers 

blacksmith's  bellows.  Kansas  curled  his  reins  round  the 
saddle-horn,  breathed  long  and  deeply  and  wiped  his 
dripping  face  with  his  sleeve.  He  looked  about  him. 
His  eye  fell  on  Red  grinning  at  him  not  thirty  feet  away. 

"  Yo're  a  fine  Injun !  "  cried  Kansas  hotly.  "  Oh, 
yo're  a  bird,  you  are !  Why  didn't  yuh  tell  me  yuh  was 
gonna  play  a  trick  like  that?  " 

"  It  wouldn't  have  been  a  trick  if  I  had,"  smiled  Red. 
"  Anyway,  y'  ain't  got  no  business  ridin'  if  yuh'  can't 
control  yore  hoss  an'  stay  in  the  saddle.  Lordy,  it  shore 
was  funny  to  see  yuh  a-bobbin'  up  an'  down  thataway. 
Why,  Kansas,  I'll  bet  if  I  seen  yore  hoss's  ears  under 
yuh  once,  I  seen  'em  forty  times.  Wasn't  the  saddle 
comfortable,  or  what?  " 

"  Yo're  a  cock-eyed  liar,"  said  Kansas,  taking  advan 
tage  of  the  fact  that  one  may  call  a  friend  a  liar  and  not 
be  shot  in  the  process.  "  Yuh  couldn't  'a'  slid  a  piece  o' 
paper  under  me  once." 

"  I  dunno  about  no  pieces  of  paper,  but  a  pile  o'  books 
four  feet  high  wouldn't  'a'  had  no  trouble  in  doin'  the 
trick.  Nawsir." 

"  Well,  anyway,"  growled  Kansas  in  injured  tones,  for 
he  really  had  been  severely  shaken  up,  "  yuh  hadn't 
oughta  played  a  trick  like  that.  Yuh  might  'a'  busted  my 
neck." 

"  No  such  luck,"  denied  Red  in  all  seriousness,  "  yo're 
too  mean  to  do  a  thing  like  that.  I  wish  yuh  wouldn't 
speak  so  cruel  to  yore  li'l  Reddy,  who  didn't  mean  no 
harm,  an'  is  only  doin'  his  level  best  to  get  along  peaceful 
as  possible  in  this  vale  of  tears." 

Red  Kane,  affecting  to  wipe  his  eyes,  edged  nearer  to 
Kansas  Casey. 

"  Nemmine  comin'  no  closer !  "  cried  Kansas,  backing 
his  horse  hurriedly.  "  I  ain't  a-trustin'  yuh  one  inch ! 
Yo're  too  gayful  to-day  to  suit  me  entirely.  Gimme 
my  lid." 


The   Cottonwood  39 

Red  sailed  the  hat  toward  him.  Kansas  caught  it  on 
the  fly,  clapped  it  on  his  head,  and  wheeled  his  horse. 

"  Gotta  go  back  where  we  came  from  an'  pick  up  the 
buckboard's  trail  again,"  he  grumbled.  "  Just  lookit  the 
time  we  lose  'cause  yuh  had  to  play  the  fool.  Honest, 
Red,  sometimes  I  feel  like  gettin'  mad  with  yuh." 

"  Don't  do  it.  The  last  gent  who  done  that  died,  poor 
fellow.  Yuh  dunno,  yuh  might  be  the  next,  yuh  can't 
tell." 

"  I'm  shore  scared  to  death —     Say,  hear  that!  " 

"  That  "  was  a  shot  twice  repeated.  It  seemed  to  come 
from  behind  the  more  eastern  of  the  two  hills  flanking 
the  flat. 

"  I  hear  somebody  a-bawlin'  '  Help  ',"  asserted  Red 
Kane. 

"  Yore  ears  are  better'n  mine,"  said  Kansas.  "  Hop 
to  it." 

They  rounded  the  broad  hill's  foot  at  a  lope,  for  the 
horses  had  not  completely  recovered  their  breath.  Be 
hind  the  hill,  where  the  cottonwoods  grow  on  the  banks 
of  Cow  Creek,  they  came  upon  the  man  who  had  fired 
the  shots  and  called  for  help. 

He  was  the  bat-eared  stranger  of  the  Blue  Pigeon,  and 
he  was  crumpled  in  the  midst  of  the  smashed  wreck 
of  his  buckboard.  A  dead  cottonwood  was  lying  across 
his  body.  In  his  hand  was  a  revolver.  Beyond  the 
buckboard  the  two-horse  team  stood  quietly. 

Red  and  Kansas  slid  to  the  ground,  flung  the  reins  over 
their  horses'  heads  and  set  to  work.  Between  the  two 
of  them,  strong  men  both,  they  levered  up  the  cottonwood 
and  slid  it  to  earth.  Then  they  lifted  out  the  bat-eared 
man  —  he  had  fainted  at  their  first  taking  hold  upon  the 
cottonwood  —  and  laid  him  on  the  grass.  Superficially 
at  least  the  man  had  suffered  damage.  His  head  was 
cut;  his  chest  was  cut;  his  right  arm  was  scraped,  torn 
and  bleeding,  from  shoulder  to  wrist. 


40  Lynch   Lawyers 

Kansas  Casey  muttered  regretfully,  eying  the  injured 
arm. 

"  They's  no  tellin'  about  that  scar  on  the  arm  now," 
said  Red  Kane  with  something  like  relief  in  his  voice. 
"  You'll  have  to  wait." 

"  I  know  it,  but  yuh  needn't  look  so  happy.  We  gotta 
tie  him  up.  He's  bleedin'  pretty  healthy.  Wonder  if 
he's  hurt  inside." 

"  Looks  like  he  might  be.  You  get  water  from  the 
creek,  Kansas,  an'  I'll  fix  up  a  bandage  for  him." 

When  Kansas  returned  from  the  creek  with  a  hatful 
of  water,  Red,  a  series  of  white  strips  across  one  knee, 
was  squatting  beside  the  senseless  man. 

Dipping  into  Casey's  hat  with  his  own  neck-handker 
chief,  Red  Kane  deftly  washed  clean  the  jagged  cuts  and 
tears.  Then  he  bound  them  up  tidily  with  strip  after 
strip  of  the  white  stuff  draped  across  his  knee. 

Kansas  watched  him,  idly  at  first,  then  with  suddenly 
awakened  interest  as  he  glimpsed  a  hem  with  buttonholes 
adorning  the  side  of  the  strips.  He  arose  hastily  and 
went  to  his  saddle  and  searched  his  saddle  pockets.  He 
came  back  more  hastily  than  he  had  gone.  And  he  did 
not  cease  to  call  upon  strange  gods.  Red  Kane  looked 
placidly  up  at  him. 

"  Whatsamatter  ?  "  queried  Red  Kane. 

"  Whatsamatter  ?  Whatsamatter?"  choked  out  the 
thoroughly  provoked  Kansas.  "  I'd  ask  whatsamatter ! 
I'd  tell  a  man,  I  would!  You  purple  pirate,  you  done 
took  my  shirt,  my  white  shirt,  the  only  white  shirt  I  got, 
an'  tore  it  all  up  for  bandages !  " 

"  What  right  you  got  to  a  white  shirt,  I'd  like  to 
know  ?  "  demanded  Red,  shaking  a  lean  finger  at  him. 
"  You  got  nerve  wearin'  white  shirts.  You  ain't  a  min 
ister  nor  a  undertaker  an'  you  got  a  white  shirt.  Why, 
Kansas,  when  I  looked  in  yore  saddle  pockets  an'  seen 
that  shirt,  I  shore  thought  she  must  'a'  crawled  in  there 


The   Cottonwood  41 

by  mistake.  I  never  had  no  idea  you  was  the  owner. 
So  it  was  yores,  huh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was  mine,  an'  you'll  get  me  another,  or  I'll 
shore  crawl  yore  hump  a  few !  You  can't  run  no  blazers 
on  me,  you  long-legged  rooster !  " 

"  Lordy,  Kansas,  yo're  shore  hard  to  please.  Why,  if 
I  hadn't  'a'  used  yore  shirt,  I'd  'a'  had  to  use  mine.  Think 
o'  that,  an'  be  happy." 

Kansas  opened  his  mouth  to  reply,  but  the  injured  man, 
coming  out  of  his  faint,  spoke  first. 

"  I'm  obliged  to  yuh  for  takin'  the  forest  off  my  neck," 
said  he  in  a  weak  voice. 

"  No  trouble,  a-tall,"  grinned  Red.  "  Lucky  we  heard 
yuh  shootin'  an'  shoutin'." 

"  She  was  only  two  shots,"  said  the  other,  "  an'  that 
one  yell  was  all  I  could  manage.  It's  shore  amazin'  how 
a  tree  roostin'  on  yore  chestbone  cuts  off  yore  wind." 
He  dropped  his  eyes  to  his  bandaged  arm.  "  Tied  up 
all  same  invalid,"  he  continued.  "  Was  that  pail  o' 
candy  squashed  ?  ". 

"  Nary  a  squash,"  was  Red's  reassuring  reply.  "  Missed 
every  thin'  behind  the  seat,  that  cottonwood  did.  I'd 
shore  like  to  know  how  she  came  to  drop  so  unlucky  like 
just  when  you  was  passin'.  They  ain't  no  wind." 

"  Hit  her  with  the  hub  o'  my  off  front  wheel,"  ex 
plained  the  hurt  man.  "  Crack  she  went  an'  down  she 
come.  She  was  pretty  rotten,  I  guess." 

"  Yeah,"  said  Kansas,  examining  the  stump.  "  Just 
punk.  How  yuh  f eelin'  ?  " 

:t  Tolerable,"  declared  the  other  and  strove  to  arise, 
but  he  sank  back  instantly,  his  face  drawn  with  pain. 

"Where's  it  the  worst?"  asked  Red,  bending  over 
him. 

"  Left  side,  low  down,"  whispered  the  man. 

"Floatin'  ribs,  I  guess,"  hazarded  Red.  "  Yuh'd 
oughta  have  a  doctor." 


42  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  Don't  need  one,"  the  stranger  contradicted  weakly. 
"  My  daughter  Dot,  she's  pretty  good  thataway.  She 
set  a  busted  leg  for  me  once,  an'  it  set  grand.  If  I  could 
get  home,  gents,  I'd  be  all  right." 

"Where  yuh  live?" 

"  In  the  old  ranch-house  at  the  spring  near  Sweetwater 
Mountain.  My  name's  Lorimer." 

Kansas  Casey  could  not  forego  a  fleeting  smile  of  sat 
isfaction.  In  one  premise,  at  least,  he  was  correct.  Red 
looked  woodenly  at  Kansas. 

"  Guess  maybe  we  could  sort  o'  fix  that  buckboard," 
said  he.  "  The  wheels  an'  axles  are  still  O  K.  But  we 
ain't  got  nothin'  to  cut  saplin's  with." 

"  They's  a  ax  an'  a  sawr  under  the  buckboard  seat," 
said  Lorimer.  "  I  always  carry  'em  for  a  e-mergency. 
Never  know  what's  gonna  drop  in  this  country,"  he 
added  with  a  whimsical  smile. 


CHAPTER   SIX 
JUDGE  LYNCH 

THEY  were  yet  two  hundred  yards  from  the  ranch- 
house  by  the  spring  when  Miss  Lorimer  came  running 
to  meet  them.  If  she  recognized  Red  Kane  she  gave  no 
sign.  She  stooped  above  her  father  when  the  dreary 
makeshift  of  a  vehicle  halted,  listened  to  his  few  words, 
ran  deft  hands  over  his  body  lightly,  surely.  She 
straightened  her  young  figure,  pushed  the  black  curls  out 
of  her  eyes  and  said : 

"  He  has  a  broken  rib  and  a  badly  scratched  arm.  I 
don't  think  he's  otherwise  much  hurt  beyond  a  few 
bruises.  Bring  him  along.  I'll  get  things  ready." 

She  ran  lithely  back  to  the  house.  Red  followed  her 
flight  without  the  slightest  change  of  expression.  He 
looked  as  stolid  as  a  ship's  figurehead.  Kansas  Casey 
stared  after  the  lady  a  moment;  then  he  looked  at  Red 
Kane.  His  eyes  met  Red's  steady  gray  gaze.  Where 
upon  Kansas  Casey  winked  his  off  eye,  stuck  his  tongue 
into  his  cheek  and  started  the  horses. 

"  I  see  you've  changed  saddles,"  observed  the  girl  to 
Red  Kane  when  her  father  was  resting  as  comfortably 
as  his  set  rib  would  allow  him. 

The  two  were  standing  at  the  kitchen  doorway.  Kan 
sas  Casey  was  busily  engaged  in  chopping  wood  against 
the  morrow.  Red  looked  out  to  where  his  brother  Tom's 
saddle  hung  on  a  corral  post. 

"  Yeah."  He  smiled  his  engaging  smile.  "  I  made  up 
my  mind  I  wouldn't  make  that  mistake  again." 


44  Lynch   Lawyers 

"What  mistake?"  Water  running  over  ice  was  no 
colder  than  her  tone. 

"  Jack  Owens'  saddle." 

And  Red  went  on  to  tell  her  the  true  story  of  the  saddle 
and  himself. 

She  did  not  look  at  him  as  he  spoke.  Instead,  she 
gazed  aloofly  toward  the  western  hills,  dark  against  the 
setting  sun.  He  could  not  be  positive  whether  she  be 
lieved  him  or  not.  She  was  certainly  very  beautiful 
standing  there  with  the  sunbeams  playing  redly  on  her 
face.  How  her  black  curls  glistened  in  the  glow !  What 
would  it  be  like  to  put  a  hand  beneath  her  firm,  round 
chin  and  tilt  her  head  back  ?  He  wondered  and,  wonder 
ing,  forgot  that  he  was  staring  her  out  of  countenance  till 
she  suddenly  looked  at  him,  her  cheeks  hot  with  a  fire 
that  sprang  not  from  the  sunshine. 

"  You're  a  plausible  person,"  she  told  him,  giving  him 
stare  for  stare  the  while.  "  You  tell  a  fairly  straight 
story,  —  well  strung  together,  as  it  were." 

"  Ma'am  —  "  he  began,  a  trifle  hurt. 

"  Oh,  I  believe  you,"  she  drawled.  "  Why  wouldn't 
I  ?  Didn't  you  rescue  my  father  and  bring  him  home,  — 
you  and  your  friend?  It  was  providential  that  you  hap 
pened  to  be  on  hand.  I  am  a  little  curious  to  know  how 
you  happened  to  be  on  hand,  and  how  your  friend  hap 
pens  to  be  a  deputy  sheriff.  I  suppose  he's  a  deputy. 
He's  wearing  the  star  of  one." 

"  I  got  lots  o'  different  kinds  o'  friends,"  Red  said 
vaguely,  finding  the  ice  brittle. 

"  I've  noticed  that  —  that  and  a  certain  persistency. 
Why  were  you  coming  out  here  again,  —  with  a  deputy 
sheriff?" 

The  black  eyes  narrowed  ever  so  little,  and  the  voice 
rang  a  bit  hard. 

"  I  didn't  say  I  was  comin'  out  here,"  objected  Red, 
beginning  to  fidget  on  his  feet. 


Judge    Lynch  45 

"  I  know  you  didn't  say  so.  You  don't  have  to  say 
so  in  so  many  words.  I  wasn't  born  the  day  before  yes 
terday.  What  are  your  intentions  ?  " 

"  I'm  gonna  marry  you." 

It  was  not  the  reply  he  had  meant  to  give.  It  had 
bounced  out  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  The  girl's 
cheeks  grew  redder.  Her  black  eyes  sparkled.  Then 
she  smiled  unpleasantly. 

"  So  that's  your  trouble,''  she  said  thoughtfully.  "  Do 
you  know,  I  thought,  when  I  saw  your  friend  was  a  dep 
uty,  that  you  had  gotten  the  law  to  help  you  evict  us. 
But  why  —  if  you  intend  to  marry  me  —  why  bring  a 
deputy  sheriff  ?  Why  not  a  minister  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  know  you'd  be  willin'  so  quick." 

At  that  she  swung  her  arm  to  box  his  ear.  But  he 
had  moved.  Her  fingers  swept  past  his  nose  with  four 
inches  to  spare. 

"  Always  watch  a  person's  eyes,''  said  he  gravely, 
standing  six  feet  away,  "  then  yuh  can  tell  what's  comin*. 
I  was  watchin'  yores,  watchin'  'em  close.  They're  black 
all  right,  but  they  got  lots  o'  fire  in  'em."  He  watched 
her  narrowly,  saw  that  she  was  trembling  violently,  and 
altered  his  tone  abruptly.  "  Aw,  be  reasonable,"  he  con 
tinued  beseechingly.  "Be  reasonable,  can't  yuh?  I'm 
meanin'  every  word  I  say." 

At  which  naive  announcement  she  began  to  laugh  im 
moderately.  He  watched  her  in  perplexity.  He  had 
heard  of  hysterics.  Was  she  having  them?  Ought  he 
to  throw  water  on  her  or  shake  her  ?  Which  ?  He  took 
a  long  breath  and  a  step  forward.  As  he  moved,  she 
ceased  to  laugh.  He  halted.  She  folded  her  arms  and 
looked  upon  him,  her  expression  solemn. 

"You  actually  mean  you  want  to  marry  me?"  she 
drawled. 

"  Shore."  he  nodded. 

"Why?" 


46  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  I  like  yore  looks." 

"  Oh,  my  looks.  I  see.  But  you  don't  know  me.  I 
might  be  a  most  gosh-awful  person  for  all  you  can  tell." 

"  I'll  take  a  chance."     In  all  seriousness. 

"  You  are  a  gambler.  Risking  your  future,  every 
thing,  all  for  the  sake  of  black  eyes  and  black  hair  and  a 
straight  nose.  How  do  you  know  you'll  love  me,  cherish 
me,  and  all  that  after  I'm  gray  and  decrepit?  Have  you 
thought  of  that?" 

"  Whatsa  use  ?  "  was  the  cynical  reply.  "  I'd  rather 
think  about  now.  But  I  tell  yuh  this  —  an'  I  ain't  foolin', 
not  any  —  if  I  love  yuh  now,  I'll  love  yuh  always,  an' 
don't  yuh  forget  it.  I  ain't  no  kid." 

"  How  old  are  you?  " 

"  Twenty-eight." 

"Twenty-eight.  Well,  well,  who'd  'a'  thought  it? 
Regular  Methuselah,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"  Nun  —  no,  I  dunno  about  that." 

"  Middle-aged  then.  We'll  be  charitable  and  call  it 
that.  And  you  were  askin'  me  to  be  reasonable  a  while 
since,  weren't  you?  All  right,  I  will  be.  As  a  prospec 
tive  husband,  have  you  anythin'  besides  yourself  and  your 
nerve  to  offer  a  bride  ?  " 

"Ain't  I  enough?" 

"  Not  for  me.  How  large  is  your  ranch  ?  How  many 
calves  do  you  brand  in  the  spring  ?  " 

"  Now  you're  talkin'  scandiloovious,  an'  I  ain't  no 
squarehead.  Ranch!  Calves!  Ha-ha,  an'  a  couple  o' 
hees.  I  said  be  reasonable,  ma'am." 

"  It's  yourself  and  the  nerve  then.  I  was  thinkin'  it 
might  be  that.  I'm  afraid  it  won't  do,  Mister  Methuse 
lah.  I'm  a  hearty  eater.  I  like  to  be  sure  of  my  food. 
No,  no,  it  won't  do.  You'll  have  to  take  your  honest 
heart  elsewhere." 

"  Nary  a  take.  I'm  stickin'  till  you  change  your 
mind."  ' 


Judge   Lynch  47 

"  Just  hold  your  breath  till  I  do,  my  gay  young  friend. 
Why,  you  poor  conceited  fool  of  a  pilgrim,  I  wouldn't 
marry  you  if  you  were  the  last  man  on  earth.  You 
might  as  well  drag  it  so  far's  I'm  concerned." 

"  But  you  ain't  the  only  one  concerned,"  objected  Red 
Kane,  meeting  her  hard  smile  with  his  cheerful  grin. 
"  You  keep  forgettin'  me  alia  time.  I'm  gonna  marry 
you,  maybe  not  to-day  or  to-morrow,  but  some  day.  It 
don't  make  a  bit  o'  differ  how  much  you  say,  what  you 
say  or  how  you  say  it  —  she's  settled.  Yo're  gonna 
marry  me,  just  as  shore  as  the  Lord  made  li'l  hoptoads, 
an'  don't  you  forget  it." 

"  Whether  I  want  to  or  not?  "  A  sardonic  devil  leaped 
and  danced  in  the  depths  of  her  black  eyes. 

"  You'll  want  to,"  he  told  her  confidently. 

She  laughed  a  laugh  that  matched  her  former  smile 
in  hardness.  Suddenly  her  face  fell  sober. 

"  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  listen  to  you,"  said  she.  "  You 
were  very  decent  about  bringin'  dad  in  and  you  helped 
me  set  the  rib.  I  owe  you  somethin'  for  that." 

Red  Kane  went  fiery  beneath  the  tan. 

"  You  don't  mean  that,"  he  said  quietly.  "  You  know 
I  ain't  lookin'  for  pay.  An'  you  don't  have  to  listen  to 
me.  I'll  shut  up  for  now,  but  I'm  comin'  round  later." 

"  It's  a  free  country,"  she  put  in. 

"  'Cause  if  I  don't,"  he  continued,  "  it's  a  safe  bet 
somebody  else  will,  an'  I'm  aimin'  to  be  the  somebody 
my  own  self." 

"  I've  seen  men  here  and  there,"  she  observed  dispas 
sionately.  "  Some  were  good  and  some  were  not,  a  few 
pleased  me  and  more  didn't,  and  that  means  quite  a  jag  of 
'em  first  and  last,  but  of  all  the  he-mortals  I  ever  ran 
across  not  a  single  dozen  ever  made  me  so  mad  as  you 
do.  Good-by." 

She  turned  a  straight  back  on  him  and  slammed  the 
kitchen  door  in  his  face. 


48  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  She'll  come  round,"  he  told  himself  with  an  assur 
edness  he  was  far  from  feeling.  "  What  did  I  tell  her  I 
was  gonna  marry  her  for?  Red,  yuh  poor  id  jit,  you've 
shore  spilt  the  coffee-pot  this  time."  He  smiled  a  one 
sided  smile,  and  rubbed  an  elbow  with  the  palm  of  his 
hand.  "  She  hadn't  oughta  asked  me  about  my  inten 
tions,"  he  continued  aloud.  "  Nawsir,  she  shore  oughtn't 
to  done  that." 

He  regarded  the  closed  door  with  half -shut  eyes,  teeter 
ing  the  while  on  his  high  heels. 

"  I  wonder  now,"  he  mused.     "  I  wonder  —  " 

He  dodged  sidewise  and  wheeled,  for  Kansas  Casey 
had  clapped  him  violently  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Watcha  mumblin'  an'  mutter  in'  about?"  the  deputy 
inquired  curiously.  '  You  was  havin'  a  fine  powwow 
with  you  an'  yoreself.  Can  a  gent  horn  in,  or  was  you 
desirin'  to  be  private?" 

"  I  was,"  Red  said  pointedly,  "  but  I  dunno  as  it's  any 
use  goin'  on  with  it  now.  I  like  you,  Kansas.  Take  yuh 
all  round,  meat,  hide,  horns,  hoofs  an'  taller,  yo're  a 
pretty  good  jigger.  I  don't  care  what  folks  say,  I'll 
always  give  yuh  a  good  character.  Yore  face  may  be 
against  yuh,  but  you  can't  help  it.  You  was  born  that 
way,  an'  —  " 

"  Look  here  —  "  Kansas  began  with  heat. 

"  I'm  doin'  that,"  interrupted  Red,  "  an'  I  can't  see  that 
you've  changed  a  bit  since  yuh  went  out  to  that  wood 
pile.  If  you've  done  butchered  enough  kindlin',  lean  on 
them  two  buckets  an'  sashay  over  to  the  spring  an'  back 
a  few  times.  This'll  be  the  first  honest  work  y'  ever 
done  in  yore  life,  won't  it,  Kansas?  Now,  now,  Kansas, 
lookout!  You'll  choke!" 

Affecting  great  anxiety,  Red  seized  Kansas  by  the 
shoulders.  Kansas,  out  of  deference  to  the  lady  who 
he  supposed  was  in  the  kitchen,  must  perforce  whisper 
his  opinion  of  Red.  The  effort  at  restraint  rendered  him 


Judge    Lynch  49 

purple.  The  two,  wrestling,  waltzed  across  to  the  cor 
ral.  Suddenly  Red  loosed  his  hold. 

"  Hear  that,"  said  he,  fending  off  Kansas  with  both 
hands. 

"What?"  queried  Kansas,  lowering  his  arms. 

"  Hosses."     Succinctly. 

Both  listened. 

"  There,  can't  yuh  hear  'em  ?  "  Red  demanded  impa 
tiently.  "  Take  the  cotton  out  o'  yore  ears." 

"  I'll  stick  my  knuckles  in  yores,"  Kansas  told  him 
amiably.  "  I  hear  'em  now.  They's  a  few  of  'em  shore 
comin'  this  way  fast  an'  soon." 

"  Ten  anyway,"  said  Red  Kane. 

A  moment  later  a  bunched  group  of  horsemen  ap 
peared  on  a  rise  of  ground  a  mile  to  the  west.  They 
were  in  a  tearing  hurry,  these  horsemen,  and  swept  down 
on  the  ranch-house,  a  dusty  outfit  of  sixteen  men.  They 
galloped  up  and  skittered  to  a  halt. 

It  seemed  to  Red  that  their  manner  was  suspiciously 
ostentatious.  He  watched  them  curiously.  He  knew 
them  all.  They  were  men  of  Farewell,  every  one.  They 
nodded  or  spoke  to  him  and  Kansas,  and  it  was  evident 
that  they  found  the  presence  of  Kansas  Casey  sufficiently 
displeasing. 

"  I  suppose  you've  arrested  him,  Kansas,"  said  the 
leader,  one  Carlson,  a  short  and  thickset  person  with  a 
sweeping  brown  mustache. 

Deep  disappointment  lay  heavily  in  the  tones  of  Mr. 
Carlson. 

Kansas  Casey  opened  innocent  eyes.  He  stared  hard 
at  Carlson  and  the  outfit  at  his  horse's  tail. 

"  Arrested  who  ?  "  said  Kansas  Casey. 

"  Why,  this  man  Lorimer." 

Red  Kane  puckered  his  forehead.  Was  it  possible 
that  Carlson  knew  of  the  notice  from  Lang  County? 

"What  do  I  wanna  arrest  him  for?"  asked  Kansas 


50  Lynch   Lawyers 

Casey.  "  Not  that  it's  any  of  yore  business  whether  I 
arrest  him  or  not." 

"  O'  course  not,"  said  Carlson  smoothly,  and  he  smiled 
a  crooked  smile.  "  Law-breakin'  is  none  of  our  business 
neither."  He  looked  round  at  the  faces  of  his  followers 
before  adding,  "  Why  would  it  be?  But,  if  you  ain't  here 
to  arrest  him,  what  are  yuh  doin'  here?  " 

"  Which  again  is  none  of  yore  business."  Kansas  did 
not  raise  his  voice.  But  it  was  obvious  that  he  was 
growing  angry. 

Carlson  nodded.  Again  he  looked  about  him  at  his 
men. 

"  I  guess,"  said  he.  "  I  guess  likely.  Well,  if  you 
ain't  gonna  do  nothin'  with  this  gent  Lorimer  for  robbin' 
the  stage,  I  guess  we  will." 

"  You  will  ?  "    Kansas  said  very  softly.    "  You  will  ?  " 

"  Y'  bet  yuh."  Carlson  wagged  a  purposeful  head,  dis 
mounted  and  set  one  hand  to  his  rope-strap. 

"  I  don't  see  no  sheriff  in  yore  bunch,"  Kansas  said. 

"  No,"  returned  Carlson,  "  he  ain't  with  us  to-day." 

"  An'  if  you  figure  on  doin'  any  thin'  rambuctious  with 
that  rope,  you  won't  be  with  us  neither,"  chipped  in  Red 
Kane,  taking  a  hand  in  the  conversation  for  the  first  time. 

Carlson  continued  to  unstrap  his  rope.  He  took  it 
down  and  shook  out  its  coils. 

"  I  don't  see  nobody  round  here  that's  gonna  keep  me 
from  doin'  anythin'  I  feel  like  doin'."  Carlson  stared 
hardily  at  Red  Kane. 

"  Think  so?  "  grinned  Red.  "  Well,  Mister  Man,  all 
you  gotta  do  is  open  any  door  in  this  house." 

Carlson  laughed  harshly  and  spat.  He  was  not  lack 
ing  in  courage,  this  Carlson,  but  he  knew  that  Red  Kane 
was  a  cold  proposition.  So  was  Kansas  Casey.  Both 
were  excellent  shots.  He  himself,  as  leader  of  his  crowd, 
would,  should  matters  come  to  a  crisis,  indubitably  be 
the  first  to  die. 


Judge   Lynch  5 i 


"  Look  here,  they's  sixteen  of  us,"  announced  Carlson. 
"  How  you  gonna  stop  us  ?  Sixteen  to  two.  Yo're  talkin' 
foolish." 

"  Then  if  we're  talkin'  foolish,  what  yuh  waitin'  for?  " 
Kansas  Casey  inquired  shrewdly. 

"  We  don't  wanna  have  to  drill  you,  Kansas,"  ex 
plained  Carlson.  "  Yo're  a  friend  o'  ours.  So's  Red  —  " 

"  I  ain't,"  Red  Kane  interrupted.  "  Not  for  one  li'l 
minute  I  ain't.  I  ain't  friends  with  no  herd  o'  humans 
who  comes  squinchin'  round  sixteen  to  one  to  lynch  folks. 
Yo're  a  real  courageous  outfit  o'  bummers,  I'll  say  that 
for  yuh.  Where's  the  rest  o'  the  town  ?  Don't  you  know 
this  gent  might  be  armed?  Ain't  yuh  takin'  a  long 
chance?  I'm  only  surprised  yuh  didn't  come  round  at 
night  when  yuh  could  creep  up  on  him  asleep,  an'  — 
None  o'  that,  Carlson!  Stick  'em  up,  quick!  " 

Carlson  stuck  them  up  and  inwardly  cursed  himself  for 
being  so  thoughtless  as  to  go  after  his  gun  against  a  man 
like  Red  Kane. 

"  A  derringer  is  shore  handy,"  Red  observed  to  the 
world  at  large  without  removing  his  eyes  from  the  face 
of  Carlson.  "  Yuh  can  carry  it  right  in  the  palm  of 
yore  hand  an'  nobody'll  notice  it  till  the  right  time.  You 
didn't,  did  yuh,  Carlson?" 

Carlson's  reply  was  more  than  vigorous. 

"  Guess  now  I  must  'a'  hurt  Carlson's  li'l  pink  feelin's," 
mourned  Red.  "  I'm  sorry.  It's  all  right  about  you 
gents  in  behind  there,  but  if  anybody  goes  a-draggin'  out 
his  artillery  thinkin'  to  down  me  when  I  ain't  lookin', 
Carlson  here  will  be  sorrier  than  me.  This  derringer  is 
fifty  caliber  an'  double-barreled,"  he  added  matter-of- 
factly. 

"  Lemme  do  this,  boys,"  pleaded  Carlson  to  his  nervous 
henchmen. 

"  Why  not  lemme?  "  suggested  Kansas  Casey.  "  Red, 
yo're  too  previous.  Carlson,  so  are  you.  An'  as  for  the 


5  2  Lynch   Lawyers 

rest  o'  you  gents,  they  won't  be  no  lynchin'  here.  They's 
a  mighty  sick  man  in  this  house,  an'  I  want  yuh  to  let 
him  alone." 

The  kitchen  door  at  Red's  back  opened.  The  girl 
stood  in  the  doorway. 

"  If  you  boys  intend  to  do  any  shootin',"  she  said 
quietly,  "  I  wish  you'd  go  away  off  some'ers.  Your 
friskin'  round  out  here  has  got  him  all  excited.  He  can't 
hear  what  you're  sayin',  and  naturally  he's  curious.  Come 
some  other  time,  gentlemen,  when  he's  better." 

She  nodded,  smiled  brightly  upon  them  all  and  closed 
the  door. 

Red,  at  the  sound  of  the  girl's  voice,  had  tucked  the 
derringer  out  of  sight  beneath  his  armpit.  Carlson  had 
lowered  his  hands  and  clasped  them  with  as  much  ease 
as  he  could  muster  behind  his  head.  He  fondly  trusted 
that  the  girl  would  think  that  this  was  a  natural  pose. 
Too  late,  when  she  was  gone,  he  remembered  that  he 
should  have  removed  his  hat.  The  others  had  swept 
theirs  off.  Most  of  them  were  grinning  idiotically  and 
settling  neckhandkerchiefs  with  great  care.  Pretty 
women  are  few  and  far  between  in  the  broken  lands. 

But  all  was  not  well  yet.  Four  members  of  the  lynch 
ing  party,  while  imitating  their  comrades  in  the  removal 
of  their  hats,  were  not  overjoyed  at  the  turn  of  affairs. 
The  bumptiousness  of  Red  Kane  stuck  in  their  gullets. 
They  did  not  like  him  anyway.  They  never  had.  Fresh 
jigger,  like  all  that  Bar  S  crowd. 

Durkin,  Cox,  Lenn  and  Dill,  knowing  each  other  very 
well,  looked  sidelong  at  the  man  who  had  outfaced  them. 
Kansas  Casey  had  been  likewise  in  the  outfacing.  But 
that  was  different  quite.  For  Kansas  Casey  was  a  deputy 
sheriff. 

Red  Kane,  unconscious  of  their  scrutiny,  shifted  his 
feet.  A  gleam  of  yellow  showed  dully  in  the  trampled 
grass  beside  his  boot  soles.  It  was  fate  that  the  afore- 


Judge   Lynch  53 

mentioned  quartette  should  have  been  watching  Red  at 
that  moment. 

"  Looks  like  a  gold  piece  there/'  remarked  Durkin  in 
a  voice  unnecessarily  loud. 

"  Right  by  yore  foot  —  the  left  one/'  said  Lenn. 

Red  stooped.  There  was  a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece 
without  doubt.  He  picked  it  up.  Another  caught  his 
eye.  Then  a  third  and  a  fourth.  He  could  see  no  others. 
Red  chinked  the  four  gold  pieces  in  the  palm  of  his 
hand. 

"  An'  me  standin'  right  over  'em  an'  never  knowed  it," 
he  marveled. 

"  They  musta  fell  out  of  his  pockets  when  we  unloaded 
him  off  the  buckboard,"  said  Kansas  Casey. 

"  Out  of  his  pockets,  huh  ?  "  repeated  Durkin.  Eight 
hundred  dollars  o'  the  money  stole  from  the  stage  passen 
gers  was  in  double  eagles,  did  yuh  know  that?  " 

"  What  of  it  ?  "  demanded  the  truculent  Red.  "  What's 
that  got  to  do  with  these  here  four,  Durkin?  " 

But  Durkin  merely  grinned  and  patted  the  brass  horn 
of  his  saddle.  His  three  friends  smiled  evilly.  Carlson 
looked  troubled.  He  could  have  wished  himself  else 
where.  He  was  not  a  bad  chap  at  heart,  and  he  had  seen 
the  nester's  daughter.  One  of  Carlson's  friends,  a  gentle 
man  named  Riley,  voiced  Carlson's  own  thought. 

"  After  all,"  observed  the  gentleman  named  Riley,  "  we 
can't  tell  nothin'  by  them  there  double  eagles.  They's 
lots  of  eagles.  The  gov'ment  makes  'em  by  the  bar'l." 

"  Alia  same,  this  had  oughta  be  looked  into,"  declared 
Cox. 

"  I  guess  we'll  have  to  search  the  house  after  all,"  the 
deputy  pronounced.  "  'S  no  use  hollerin',  Red,  it's  gotta 
be  done.  Don't  mean  nothin'  anyway.  It's  only  a  for- 
mal'ty." 

Kansas  Casey  turned  and  knocked  upon  the  kitchen 
door. 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 

PUBLIC    OPINION 

"  WHY  didn't  yuh  knock  that  gun  out  of  his  hand !  " 
complained  Cox,  tenderly  holding  a  bandaged  forearm. 

"  How'd  I  know  he  had  a  gun?"  angrily  demanded 
Durkin.  "  I  thought  he  was  hurt  bad  from  what  Kansas 
said  —  busted  ribs  an'  such  —  couldn't  make  a  gun- 
play." 

"  He  shore  made  one,"  said  Carlson,  building  himself  a 
cigarette.  "  An'  his  second  shot  tickled  my  ear  so  close 
I  felt  the  breeze.  If  this  Lorimer  gent  is  as  active  as 
this  when  he's  sick,  yuh  can  fry  me  if  I  wanna  fuss  with 
him  without  one  awful  good  reason  when  he's  well." 

"  That's  me,"  chimed  in  Riley.  "  He  shore  is  a  cracker 
with  a  gun.  Why,  I  was  watchin'  him  when  they's  a 
flash-flash  an'  a  couple  o'  bangs  from  his  bunk,  an'  Coxy's 
nicked.  Wonder  he  didn't  down  yuh,  Coxy.  Bet  he 
would  if  he  hadn't  been  sort  of  under  the  weather.  That 
second  shot  was  for  you  too." 

"  I  know  it,"  grunted  Cox,  " his  soul.  I'll 

get  him  yet." 

"  You  be  sure  an'  bushwhack  him  then,"  advised  Red 
Kane  sarcastically,  "  or  what'll  be  left  o'  you  won't  float 
in  water.  Y'  oughta  had  better  sense,  Cox,  than  to  offer 
to  bet  Durkin  the  stolen  money  was  under  the  floor  in  a 
bull-beller  yuh  could  hear  over  in  Farewell.  An'  you 
standin'  not  ten  feet  from  his  bunk.  No  wonder  he  took 
a  shot  at  yuh.  Don't  blame  him.  Serve  yuh  right. 
Yo're  a  fool,  Cox,  whether  yuh  like  it  or  not." 


Public   Opinion  55 

"  This  here's  my  right  hand/'  suggested  Cox,  "  or  Fd 
talk  to  yuh." 

"  I'll  be  round  when  it  gets  well,"  Red  answered  him 
promptly. 

"  Alia  same,  s'pose  we  didn't  find  no  money  besides  the 
silver  in  his  clo'es,"  said  Durkin,  giving  Red  his  closest 
attention.  "  I'll  bet  he  did  help  hold  up  that  stage,  an'  I 
wouldn't  be  surprised  none  if  he  knowed  somethin'  about 
the  express  robbery." 

"  Yo're  a  liar!"  cried  partisan  Red  on  general  prin 
ciples  and  reached  for  his  gun. 

His  clutching  fingers  had  barely  touched  the  wood  of 
the  butt  when  a  Winchester  cracked  behind  him,  burning 
powder  grains  stung  his  ear,  and  Durkin,  a  ragged  hole  in 
the  front  of  his  hat,  gave  way  at  the  knees  and  toppled 
backward. 

Red  Kane,  one  hand  over  his  burnt  ear,  turned.  There 
in  the  doorway  of  the  ranch-house  stood  the  nester's 
daughter.  Her  black  eyes  were  blazing.  Her  lips  were 
parted,  showing  clenched  white  teeth.  In  her  hands  she 
held  a  rifle.  From  the  muzzle  a  curl  of  greasy  gray 
smoke  spiraled  lazily  upward. 

The  spectators  did  not  move.  Some  looked  at  the  pros 
trate  Durkin  with  the  blood  trickling  from  beneath  his 
hat.  Some  looked  at  the  girl  where  she  stood  motionless, 
her  smoking  rifle  slanting  across  her  tense  figure.  The 
girl  stared  at  the  body  of  the  man  she  had  shot.  Slowly 
she  passed  the  tip  of  a  pink  tongue  across  and  across  her 
tight-drawn  lips.  She  laid  the  rifle  level  and  clicked  in  a 
fresh  cartridge. 

The  nester's  daughter  raised  her  head.  Each  man  of 
the  scattered  crowd  felt  that  her  smoldering  gaze  was 
fixed  upon  him  personally.  They  shifted  their  feet  and 
hands  and  wriggled  embarrassed  shoulders.  Even  Kan 
sas  Casey  and  Red  Kane  were  not  immune  to  the  general 
feeling  of  unease. 


5  6  Lynch    Lawyers 

"  Does  anybody  else  think  there's  any  stolen  money 
around  here,  and  does  anybody  else  think  my  father  is  a 
road  agent  ?  "  Her  voice  was  quite  clear,  and  it  carried 
an  edge  like  a  razor. 

No  one  made  reply.  Somehow  it  seemed  that  no 
reply  was  necessary.  The  silence  was  thick  enough  to  cut. 
It  endured  while  one  so  moved  might  saddle  a  horse. 
Then  Kansas  Casey  cleared  a  self-conscious  throat. 
Kansas  was  not  clear  in  his  mind  whether  the  case  was 
one  of  murder  or  justifiable  homicide.  Justice  in  that 
country  was  a  broad-minded  lady,  but  Kansas  Casey  was 
a  conscientious  officer.  God  knows  he  always  tried  to  do 
the  proper  thing. 

"  Ma'am,"  said  Kansas  Casey,  taking  off  his  hat  to 
the  girl,  "  I  wish  you'd  gimme  yore  word  not  to  leave  the 
county  till  the  sheriff  —  he's  coroner  —  sits  on  this  case. 
He'd  oughta  get  back  from  Marysville  inside  a  week  — 
which  I  shore  hope  he  does,  if  not  sooner,  'cause  I  dunno 
how  Durkin's  gonna  keep  this  weather.  You  see, 
ma'am,"  he  continued  persuasively,  "  me  bein'  here  when 
you  —  when  it  happened  —  we  gotta  be  legal  about  it 
so's  it'll  look  right.  But  I  don't  guess  they'll  be  no 
trouble.  The  jury'll  be  square  about  it.  They  always 
are.  Most  likely  they'll  bring  it  in  suicide  or  the  like  o' 
that.  So  if  you'll  just  gimme  yore  word,  ma'am,  like  I 
say  —  " 

The  supposed  corpse  chose  this  moment  to  move  a  leg 
and  utter  a  lusty  groan.  Later  it  was  told  abroad  that 
the  gentleman  named  Riley,  who  was  standing  at  Dur 
kin's  head,  jumped  six  feet.  But  then  everybody  was 
more  or  less  startled.  Kansas  Casey  was  so  surprised 
that  he  bit  his  tongue.  It  was  the  resourceful  Red  who 
first  recovered  himself. 

"  I  knowed  he  wasn't  dead  all  along,"  declared  that 
superior  person.  "  Dead  gents  always  fall  on  their 
faces  —  always.  It's  a  rule.  An'  Durkin  fell  flat  on  his 


Public   Opinion  57 

back,  an'  nobody  noticed  it  except  me,  which  is  nothin' 
to  wonder  at  —  considerin'." 

In  this  wise  and  with  these  words  Red  Kane  covered  his 
bounding  feeling  of  relief  —  relief  that  his  goddess  had 
not  killed  a  man.  He  approved  and  admired  her  fight 
ing  spirit;  yet,  when  it  came  to  a  public  killing,  he  pre 
ferred  to  take  it  upon  his  own  soul.  For  Red's  life  in 
the  cow  country  had  been  unable  to  completely  uproot  the 
home-grown  doctrine  that  woman's  sphere  is  the  porch 
and  fireside. 

No  one  paid  any  attention  to  Red  or  what  he  was  say 
ing.  Mr.  Durkin  was  the  center  of  attraction.  His 
friend  Mr.  Lenn,  a  dark-faced  devil  in  a  red-and-wLite 
checked  shirt,  eased  Mr.  Durkin's  head  upon  his  knee 
and  took  off  Mr.  Durkin's  hat. 

"  Ow !  Wow !  "  Mr.  Durkin's  yelp  would  not  have 
disgraced  a  tortured  coyote.  "  That's  my  head !  "  con 
tinued  Mr.  Durkin  passionately.  "  Tryin'  to  scalp  me, 
yuh  thumb-handed  id  jit!  My  skull's  fractured.  I  know 
it  is!" 

"  No  such  luck,"  Red  Kane  told  him,  dropping  on  one 
knee  at  his  side.  "  You  was  lookin'  for  trouble,  an'  you 
got  it.  Y'  always  did  talk  too  much.  This'll  learn  yuh 
to  keep  yore  fool  mouth  shut.  Hold  still,  can't  yuh? 
How  can  I  see  how  much  yo're  hurt  with  you  wigglin' 
all  over  like  a  worm  on  a  hook.  There  now,  Rum,  yo're 
in  luck.  Told  yuh  yuh  wasn't  damaged  none  to  speak  of. 
The  lead  only  tore  all  the  skin  and  hair  off  the  top  o'  yore 
head.  The  bone's  only  grooved  a  li'l  bit. 

"  Here,  shove  across  with  the  water,  Pickles.  Don't 
pour  it  in  his  eye!  Over  his  head!  That's  it.  Why 
couldn't  yuh  done  it  in  the  first  place  'stead  of  wastin'  near 
all  of  it?  Git  me  some  more,  will  yuh?  Hold  still, 
Durkin.  Too  bad  yuh  can't  see  how  fine  I'm  a-doin'  this. 
You'd  appreciate  it.  Look  at  it,  gents.  A  regular  saw 
bones  couldn't  'a'  fixed  it  up  no  better.  This'll  be  as  good 


5  8  Lynch   Lawyers 


a  job  as  Kansas  done  on  Coxy's  arm.  Kansas,  you  bust 
open  a  cartridge  an'  gimme  the  powder.  I  wanna  rub  it 
on  to  stop  the  bleedin'." 

"  Don'tcha  put  no  powder  on  my  head !  "  commanded 
Durkin,  striving  to  writhe  out  from  beneath  the  minister 
ing  hands  of  Red  Kane.  "  The  blue'll  never  come  out. 
I  don't  wanna  look  like  a  warwhoop  in  paint." 

"  Shut  up !  Got  the  powder,  Kansas  ?  Don't  you  go 
frettin'  now,  Rum,  this  here  powder  may  hurt,  but  it'll 
shore  stop  the  bleedin'  an'  keep  out  lockjaw.  You  don't 
wanna  get  lockjaw,  do  yuh?  You  wouldn't  never  talk 
nor  eat  nor  nothin'.  Think  o'  that,  Rum,  an'  be  happy. 
Any  gent  got  a  clean  handkerchief  ?  " 

Red  finally  had  the  wounded  man  bandaged  to  suit  him 
—  Red  —  if  not  the  patient,  and  rose  to  his  feet. 

"  There,"  he  said,  slapping  his  palms  together  as  he  had 
seen  a  surgeon  do  on  a  certain  occasion  in  Piegan  City, 
"  that's  done.  An',  Rum,  yuh  won't  never  have  to  brush 
yore  hair  again.  Yuh'll  always  have  a  part  right  in  the 
middle.  Save  yuh  a  lot  of  trouble,  that  will." 

The  information  did  not  wonderfully  cheer  Mr.  Dur 
kin.  He  lay  on  the  broad  of  his  back  and  regarded  Red 
Kane  darkly. 

"  Yeah,"  he  grated,  "  I'm  shore  obliged  to  yuh,  Red." 

"  I'll  bet  he's  obliged  most  to  death,"  Riley  whispered 
into  Carlson's  appreciative  ear.  "  He'll  be  Red's  friend 
for  life,  Durkin  will." 

"  Yeah,"  nodded  Carlson,  "  an'  he  won't  never  forget 
Red's  talkin'  up  to  him  thataway.  Durkin  can't  stand 
nobody  tellin'  him  the  truth  about  himself.  Hurts  his 
feelin's.  He's  got  right  tender  feelin's,"  he  added  with  a 
short  chuckle. 

"If  he's  got  any  sense,  Rum  won't  pamper  them  feelin's 
too  much,  not  if  he  wants  to  keep  on  minglin'  in  our 
midst.  I  notice  he  sort  o'  let  slide  Red's  callin'  him  a 
liar." 


Public   Opinion  59 

"  He'll  wait.  Rum  Durkin's  got  the  patience  of  a 
cougar.  If  he  can't  get  what  he  wants  one  way,  he'll 
figure  out  another." 

"  I  know  he  ain't  to  be  trusted,"  Riley  admitted 
thoughtfully.  "  Too  bad  Red  didn't  have  time  to  down 
him." 

"  Red  will  yet,"  asserted  Carlson  confidently.  "  He's 
all  right,  even  if  he  did  make  me  stick  my  hands  up.  Y' 
can't  help  but  like  the fool." 

"  Y'  ain't  the  only  one  likes  him,"  grinned  Riley. 
"  Look  yoncier." 

Carlson  looked.  The  men  from  Farewell  were  catch 
ing  up  their  horses.  Durkin,  very  wobbly  in  the  saddle, 
his  three  friends  in  close  attendance,  was  already  start 
ing  off  on  the  back  trail.  The  clear  space  between  the 
ranch-house  and  the  corral  was  deserted  by  everyone  save 
Red  Kane.  The  puncher,  his  back  toward  the  house, 
was  tightening  cinches  twenty  feet  from  the  kitchen  door. 
The  nester's  daughter  was  looking  at  him  through  the 
kitchen  window. 

Red  turned,  and  the  girl  dodged  out  of  sight.  He  took 
a  step  toward  the  house,  hesitated;  then  he  suddenly 
wheeled  back  to  his  horse,  slapped  the  reins  up  across  its 
neck,  and  mounted.  He  rode  away  by  himself  without 
a  backward  glance. 

"  Her  lookin'  thataway  don't  mean  nothin',"  whispered 
the  sophisticated  Carlson,  who  read  more  romantic  novels 
than  any  twelve  men  in  the  territory.  "  You  can't  tell 
what  a  woman  means  by  her  looks  nohow,  but  you  can 
gamble  she  shore  don't  mean  what  yuh  think  she  means 
no  matter  what.  If  yuh  know  what  I  mean." 

"  I  don't,"  said  Riley  promptly.  "  Not  for  a  minute. 
But  alia  same  I  wish  she'd  look  at  me  thataway  once. 
Just  once.  That's  all  I'd  ask.  I  ain't  talked  to  a  real 
pretty  girl  in  two  year  an'  a  half.  I  guess  now  I'll  go 
ask  her  for  a  drink." 


60  Lynch   Lawyers 

Riley  set  his  hat  straight  and  marched  up  to  the  kitchen 
door  and  knocked.  Carlson,  with  a  most  peculiar  smile, 
settled  his  shoulders  against  the  corral  stockade  and 
waited. 

The  door  opened  and  the  girl  appeared.  Riley  took 
off  his  hat,  achieved  a  head-bob  in  lieu  of  a  bow  and  said 
something.  The  girl  said  something  and  closed  the  door. 
Riley  pulled  on  his  hat  and  strode  directly  to  where  his 
horse  was  tied.  Riley's  face  was  very  red.  Carlson's 
peculiar  smile  deepened. 

"  Whatsa  matter,  *  Irish'?"  he  asked  wnen  he  had 
joined  his  friend.  "  Ain't  yuh  thirsty  no  more?  " 

"  No,  I  ain't,"  Riley  averred  with  biting  emphasis. 
"  She  ain't  so  awful  good-lookin'  when  yuh  stand  close 
to  her,"  he  continued  with  elaborate  calm  of  manner. 
"  Skin's  kind  o'  coarse-like,  an'  her  eyes  is  just  a  li'l  bit 
crossed." 

"  Yeah,"  said  Carlson,  "  I  guess  likely.  I  dunno  — 
my  ears  ain't  so  awful  sharp  —  but  I  thought  I  heard  her 
tell  yuh  they  was  a  dipper  at  the  spring  an'  to  leave  her 
alone.  O'  course,  I'm  only  sayin'  I  thought  she  said  that. 
I  didn't  mean  to  listen,  Irish." 

"  No,  you  wouldn't,  an'  it  don't  matter  anyway,  an' 
it  don't  matter  what  she  said  neither.  I  don't  think  she's 
pretty  a-tall,  an'  yuh  can  stick  a  pin  in  that,  old-timer. 
Get  yore  bone- rack  an'  come  along  before  we  get  wet. 
Look  at  them  clouds.  Gonna  rain,  I  guess.  It  is  rainin', 
an'  I  left  my  slicker  behind." 


CHAPTER   EIGHT 

THE    BROKEN    KNIFE 

"  MY  Lord,  Piney,"  exclaimed  Red  Kane,  stopping  his 
horse  beside  the  blacksmith  shop,  "  ain't  yuh  never  gonna 
get  that  wheel  made  ?  I  ain't  aimin'  to  spend  the  rest  o' 
my  sweet  young  life  in  this  village  of  bushwhackers,  I 
ain't.  Here  you  are  pitchin'  hoss-shoes  like  you  hadn't 
a  care  in  the  wicked  world  an'  not  one  single  spoke  fin 
ished,  I'll  bet." 

"  Yo're  a  heap  wrong,  Red,"  declared  the  blacksmith, 
scratching  his  head  with  grimy  fingers.  "  I  got  all  o'  six 
spokes  ready,  but  I  done  dropped  my  spoke-shave  an' 
nicked  it,  an'  —  " 

"  An'  instead  o'  grabbin'  the  grindstone  an'  grindin'  out 
the  nick,  yuh  had  to  start  in  pitchin'  hoss-shoes  with  that 
mis'able  scoundrel,  Bill  Lainey.  Howdy,  Bill,  don't  yuh 
know  pitchin'  hoss-shoes  is  dangerous  business  for  a  gent 
o'  yore  size?  Yo're  likable  to  strain  somethin'  besides 
yore  suspenders.  Why,  Bill,  I  dunno  when  I  seen  you 
takin'  so  much  exercise  all  at  once.  Whatsa  matter, 
tryin'  to  lose  yoreself  flesh  or  somethin'?  " 

The  remarks  to  Bill  Lainey's  address  were  delivered 
in  a  hearty  roar  that  carried  well  across  and  beyond  the 
street,  even  as  Red  Kane  had  intended. 

"  For  Gawd's  sake !  "  wheezed  Lainey  imploringly, 
flapping  fat  hands  at  Red,  "  don't  yell  so  loud !  My 
wife'll  hear  yuh!  Shut  up,  Red,  will  yuh?  " 

Like  a  horizontal  jack-in-the-box,  a  sharp-faced  woman 
popped  head  and  shoulders  out  of  one  of  the  side  win- 


62  Lynch   Lawyers 

dows  of  the  hotel  diagonally  across  the  street.  The 
sharp- faced  woman  fixed  sharper  eyes  on  the  fat  hotel- 
keeper. 

"  You  Bill  Lainey!  "  she  cried  in  a  voice  that  matched 
to  perfection  her -face  and  eyes.  "You  Bill  Lainey! 
You  lazy  good-for-nothin'  lummox!  If  you  can  stay 
awake  long  enough  to  play  hoss-shoes  with  that  drunken 
sot  of  a  blacksmith,  who  ain't  fit  company  for  a  Injun 
hound  to  associate  with,  much  less  a  white  man,  yo're 
strong  enough  to  fetch  me  water  an'  wood.  You  hear 
me,  you  fat  scalawag!  Slide  over  here  instanter,  or  I'll 
shore  search  out  the  broom  an'  pat  yore  face  with  it !  " 

"  There,"  sighed  Bill  Lainey,  hitching  up  his  trousers, 
"I  knowed  I'd  have  a  mighty  run  o'  bad  luck  if  I  come 
over  here  instead  o'  sleepin'  in  my  chair  like  I  oughta.  I 
knowed  it.  You  hadn't  oughta  talked  so  loud,  Red. 
I'm  a-comin',  Lize.  I'm  a-comin'." 

Bill  Lainey  waddled  off  across  the  street.  Red  Kane 
winked  at  Piney  Jackson  and  slouched  sidewise  in  the 
saddle. 

"  C'mon  now,  you  drunken  sot  of  a  blacksmith,"  urged 
Red,  "  get  to  work.  You've  heard  that  lady  tell  yuh  what 
yuh  are,  only  she  didn't  say  half  enough.  She  dunno  yuh 
like  I  do,  y'  old  reeprobate." 

"  Gawdamighty,"  murmured  the  blacksmith,  "  she  shore 
can  whirl  her  tongue  like  you  can  a  rope.  I  wouldn't  be 
married  to  her  for  a  good  deal,  I  wouldn't." 

"  Not  while  yore  own  wife's  alive  anyhow.  That 
wheel,  Piney,  huh  ?  You  recollect  we  was  talkin'  about  a 
wheel,  —  one  o'  them  round  things  with  a  tire  an'  a  felly 
an'  a  hub  an'  lots  o'  spokes.  Folks  use  'em  on  wagons  an' 
buckboards  quite  a  lot.  Wheels  thataway  make  'em  run 
easier  seemin'ly.  How  about  it,  Piney  ?  " 

"  Yo're  as  bad  as  Mis'  Lainey.  I'll  git  to  work  imme 
diate  just  to  keep  yuh  from  talkin'  me  deef.  Yo're  a 
fright  of  an  outfit,  you  fellers.  Y'  always  want  yore 


The   Broken   Knife  63 

jobs  done  at  once  if  not  sooner.  A  feller  don't  get  no 
chance  to  rest  a-tall.  All  right,  all  right,  I  won't  fool 
round  another  minute.  Say,  ain't  that  Old  Salt  ridin' 
in  on  the  trail?" 

"  Shore  is,  an'  maybe  he  won't  have  somethin'  to  say 
himself." 

When  Mr.  Saltoun,  Red  Kane's  employer  and  owner 
of  the  Bar  S  ranch,  came  opposite  the  blacksmith  shop, 
the  grindstone  within  was  bravely  squealing  and  the 
puncher  was  rolling  a  cigarette.  Mr.  Saltoun  saw  more 
than  the  puncher.  His  brows  drew  together.  He  swung 
his  horse  toward  the  cowboy. 

"  Howdy,  Red,"  said  Mr.  Saltoun,  reining  in  in  front 
of  the  blacksmith  shop.  "  We've  been  sort  o'  expectin' 
you  back  the  last  four  days." 

"  I  know  it,"  Red  returned  placidly.  "  I've  been 
wantin'  to  come  back,  but  I  had  to  wait  for  the  buck- 
board." 

"  The  buckboard !    Whadda  yuh  mean  ?  " 

"  The  buckboard  is  bust.  I  gotta  wait  for  Piney  to 
fix  her  up.  He's  workin'  on  a  wheel  now,  I  guess. 
Yonder  she  lays  —  over  by  the  freight  wagon." 

Mr.  Saltoun  regarded  the  battered  vehicle  while  the 
veins  in  his  forehead  swelled  alarmingly.  The  buck- 
board  was  the  apple  of  one  eye.  The  mule-team  was  the 
apple  of  the  other. 

"  Are  the  mules  hurt  ?  "  he  inquired  with  terrible  calm 
ness. 

"  Not  a  hair  twisted  the  wrong  way,"  was  the  cheering 
reply.  '  They're  over  in  Lainey's  corral  eatin'  their 
heads  off." 

"How'd  it  happen?" 

"  Stage  busted  a  axle,  went  on  the  rampage  an'  tore  the 
world  apart  round  here  for  a  spell.  Yore  buckboard  was 
part  o'  the  tear." 

"  The  stage  busted  up  my  buckboard  ?  " 


64  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  I'm  sayin'  so." 

"  They'll  ante  up  for  it,  by !  I'll  show  them 

they  can't  smash  my  property  all  to an'  not  pay  good 

an'  plenty!  Where's  that  Buck  Saylor?  I'll  tell  him  a 
thing  or  two!  Where'll  I  find  Buck?  " 

"  There  he  goes  now,"  said  Red,  glancing  past  Mr. 
Saltoun.  "  Slid  out  behind  the  office  some'ers.  Guess 
he  musta  seen  yuh  comin'." 

Mr.  Saltoun,  breathing  fire  and  brimstone,  spurred 
away  to  head  off  Buck  Saylor,  and  Red  Kane  leaned  back 
against  his  cantle  and  laughed  till  the  tears  ran  down  his 
cheeks.  Poor  Buck!  Old  Salt  would  surely  hang  his 
hide  on  the  fence. 

Red  Kane  picked  up  his  reins  and  jogged  after  Old 
Salt.  The  latter  had  caught  Buck  Saylor  at  the  corral 
gate. 

"  But  it  ain't  my  fault!  "  Buck  was  protesting  when 
Red  arrived.  "  How  could  I  help  the  axle  bustin'  ?  I'm 
askin'  yuh,  how  could  I  help  it?  You  act  like  it  was  all 
my  fault!" 

"I'm  gamblin'  you  was  careless  or  somethin'  —  you 
an'  yore  company.  Rotten  old  wore-out  stages!  Why 
don't  yuh  loosen  up  an'  buy  a  new  outfit  or  some  dope 
once  in  a  while  so's  yore  axles'll  have  a  chance?  Yo're 
gonna  pay  for  that  buckboard,  you  an'  yore  company,  I 
tell  yuh  those !  You  just  write  out  my  claim  right  now 
this  minute  for  two  hundred  dollars,  an'  —  " 

"  Two  hundred  dollars !  "  Buck  Saylor  flung  outraged 
hands  aloft.  "  Two  hundred  dollars !  Why,  that  squeak 

on  wheels  o'  yores  wasn't  worth  three  whoops  an'  a 

in  counterfeit  money.  Besides,  yo're  havin'  it  repaired. 
Piney  Jackson  is  fixin'  it  up  all  same  new.  I  seen  it  down 
at  his  blacksmith  shop.  Two  hundred  dollars  nothin'! 
I'm  lookin'  out  for  my  company,  I  am,  an'  I  won't  let  yuh 
put  in  no  such  claim  as  that." 

"What?"  bawled  Mr.  Saltoun,  his  predatory  profile 


The   Broken   Knife  65 

shooting  forward.  "  Do  I  hear  you  say  you  won't  lemme 
do  this  an'  that?  You  won't  lemme!  You  poor  coot, 
you'll  do  just  what  I  tell  yuh  in  this  deal.  Yo're  lookin' 
out  for  yore  company,  huh?  Who  was  it  bought  them 
cayuses  from  me  for  twenty  wheels  apiece  an'  then  resold 
'em  to  the  company  for  stage  hosses  at  forty  dollars  a 
throw?  Who  was  it,  huh?  You  think  I  don't  know 
nothin,  about  that  li'l  business  ?  Well,  I  do,  you  bet,  an' 
you  can  gamble  yore  company  will  know  any  time  I  get 
ready  to  tell  'em.  An'  you  sit  up  there  an'  blat  how  yo're 
a-lookin'  out  for  the  company !  You  got  a  nerve  like  a 
hoss  tellin'  me  what  to  do !  " 

Buck  Saylor  leaned  back  against  the  corral  gate.  His 
smile  was  a  pitiable  thing  as  he  strove  to  appear  jaunty 
and  affable. 

"  Them  hosses  I  sold  the  company  was  just  a  joke,"  he 
explained,  "  just  a  li'l  joke.  You  wouldn't  go  for  to  say 
nothin'  about  it,  I  know  yuh  wouldn't.  You'n  me  have 
always  been  old  friends,  Saltoun." 

"  I  dunno  whether  the  company  would  see  the  point  o' 
the  joke  as  easy  as  you  do,  Buck.  They  was  fifty  hosses 
in  that  bunch,  which  made  one  thousand  even  for  you. 
Do  yuh  think  the  company  would  appreciate  a  thousand 
dollars  worth  o'  joke  even  from  such  a  funny  feller  as 
you  are?  Yuh'd  better  make  out  that  two  hundred  an' 
fifty  dollar  claim  for  me,  hadn't  yuh,  Buck?  " 

"  You  said  two  hundred  awhile  ago." 

"  I  changed  my  mind.  I'm  liable  to  do  that  when  folks 
keep  me  waitin'.  Are  you  gonna  write  out  that  claim 
without  wastin'  any  more  time,  or  will  I  have  to  change 
my  mind  again?  " 

"  The  company  won't  never  allow  no  such  claim  as  that, 
I  know  they  won't." 

"  I  know  they  will  'cause  yo're  gonna  recommend  over 
yore  own  signature  in  that  claim  that  they  settle  for  two 
hundred  an*  fifty.  When  they  see  how  their  own  agent, 


66  Lynch   Lawyers 

Mister  Buck  Saylor,  feels  about  it,  they'll  believe  him  'an 
pay  it.  See  how  it  is  ?  " 

"  I  see,"  Buck  Saylor  groaned  in  deep  bitterness  of 
spirit.  "  All  right,  come  along." 

Accompanied  by  Mr.  Saltoun,  Buck  Saylor  returned  to 
the  express  office.  Red  Kane  did  not  follow.  He  dis 
mounted,  stepped  to  where  Mr.  Saltoun's  horse  had  stood 
and  picked  up  an  object  that  had  been  kicked  free  of  the 
ground  by  the  wheeling  horse. 

The  object  was  a  dusty  two-bladed  jack-knife,  not  a 
Barlow  but  the  modern  blade  of  Swedish  manufacture. 
The  larger  blade  was  broken  off  two  inches  from  the  tang. 
Red  tapped  the  knife  on  his  heel  to  rid  it  of  dust,  and 
raised  it  to  his  mouth  to  blow  out  what  remained  of  the 
territory's  fertile  soil.  Now  he  perceived  that  which  had 
not  met  his  eye  at  first  —  a  thin  silver  coin  caught  between 
the  small  blade  and  the  side  of  the  knife.  With  his  fin 
gers  he  endeavored  to  pluck  out  the  coin.  Vain  endeavor. 
The  coin  would  not  pluck.  It  was  wedged  fast.  He 
tried  his  good  front  teeth  and  narrowly  missed  cracking 
one. 

"  This  here  short  bit  is  plumb  stubborn,"  he  muttered, 
pulling  out  and  opening  his  own  pocket  knife. 

With  the  blade  of  this  implement  he  contrived  to  lever 
the  coin  from  its  resting-place. 

The  little  piece  of  silver  money  was  a  dime,  the  short 
bit  of  that  hard-working  couple,  well  and  favorably 
known  to  all  and  sundry  as  Two-Bits.  The  dime,  pierced 
near  the  edge  by  a  small  hole,  pocket-piece  fashion,  bore 
a  date  eleven  years  old  on  the  reverse.  On  the  obverse 
the  initials  B.  L.,  in  deep,  rough  scratches,  sprawled  across 
the  figure  of  the  seated  Liberty. 

"  B.  L.,"  murmured  Red  Kane,  and  with  the  ball  of  his 
thumb  he  rubbed  clear  the  little  nickel  shield  riveted  on 
one  side  of  the  stained  handle. 

There  were  letters  upon  the  shield  too.     They  had  been 


The   Broken   Knife  67 

scratched  in  even  more  deeply  than  in  the  coin.  They 
were  the  same  letters,  B.  L. 

"  I  wonder  if  Lorimer's  front  name  is  Bill,"  mused 
Red  Kane. 

He  dropped  knife  and  dime  into  a  vest  pocket  and 
stooped  to  rake  the  earth  with  his  fingers  at  the  spot  where 
he  had  found  the  knife.  He  was  hunting  for  the  missing 
portion  of  the  larger  knife  blade. 

"  That  break  was  new,"  he  reflected.  "  I'd  like  to 
know  what  the  owner  of  the  knife  was  tryin'  to  cut." 

He  did  not  find  the  broken  blade,  and  he  stood  up  and 
looked  about  him  with  keen  half-closed  eyes. 

"  Right  there  is  where  they  loaded  the  safe  aboard  the 
wagon,"  he  told  himself.  "  An'  yonder's  the  express- 
office  door.  A  feller  scamperin'  round  promiscuous  be 
tween  them  two  places  could  easy  lose  the  jack-knife 
where  I  found  her." 

"  Oh,  Red,  come  here  a  shake,  will  yuh?  " 

It  was  Mr.  Saltoun  who  was  calling  to  him  from  the 
express-office.  Red  slouched  to  the  side  doorway  and 
entered. 

11  Yeah?  "  he  said  inquiringly. 

"  I  just  want  yuh  to  tell  Buck  what  was  in  the  hind  end 
of  the  buckboard,"  explained  Mr.  Saltoun.  "  They  must 
be  somethin'  else  we  can  charge  the  company  for." 

11  Only  a  few  airtights,"  said  Red.  "  They  wasn't  hurt 
none.  Dented,  that's  all.  I  hadn't  loaded  up  yet." 

"  You'd  oughta,"  was  Mr.  Saltoun's  reproof.  "  But 
I  suppose  I  gotta  be  satisfied." 

"  Yuh  shore  gotta,"  Buck  exclaimed  in  sarcasm.  "  My 

,  Salt,  I  dunno  what  yo're  raisin'  cows  for.  Yo're 

wastin'  yore  life." 

"  Think  so  ?  "  Mr.  Saltoun  asked  dryly.  "  I  might  be 
sellin'  hosses  to  the  company,  mightn't  I  ?  Never  thought 
o'  that." 

Buck  made  no  comment  but  chewed  the  end  of  his  pen 


68  Lynch   Lawyers 

with  a  wry  face.  Mr.  Saltoun  pulled  at  his  mustache  and 
rubbed  a  stubbly  chin. 

"  I  guess  we'll  let  it  go  at  that,"  he  sighed.  "  Lessee 
her,  Buck." 

Buck  handed  him  the  paper  and  Mr.  Saltoun  read  it 
through  carefully  not  once  but  three  times.  Scotch  blood 
did  not  flow  in  his  veins  for  nothing. 

"  This'll  do  fine,"  said  Mr.  Saltoun.  "  Give  us  yore 
pen.  Red,  I  wish  you'd  sign  this,  too.  It'll  make  it 
stronger.  Now,  you  Buck,  slap  on  yore  notary  public 
seal  —  sling  on  all  the  dog  they  is." 

Dog!  Red  looked  up  quickly.  What  had  become  of 
Buck  Savior's  dogs? 

"  Djever  find  yore  dogs,  Buck  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Never  did.  Dunno  where  they  are.  They  never  did 
come  home  after  that  night.  Aw,  I  guess  they  was  poi 
soned  all  right.  They'd  'a'  come  home  if  they  was  alive." 

Mr.  Saltoun  carefully  blotted  the  signed  and  sealed 
report,  and  slid  it  into  one  of  Buck  Saylor's  official  en 
velopes. 

"  I'll  mail  this  myself,"  he  announced,  tapping  his  front 
teeth  with  the  corner  of  the  envelope  and  winking  at 
Buck. 

"  You  don't  trust  me,"  said  the  latter  reproachfully. 

"  Shore  I  do,"  declared  Mr.  Saltoun.  "  Trust  you  a 
mile.  Shore.  Why  not?  It's  only  yore  memory  I  got 
doubts  of.  You  know  yoreself,  Buck,  yo're  awful  for 
getful,  so  yuh  needn't  get  riled  nohow.  C'mon  over  to 
the  Starlight,  you  an'  Red,  an'  have  a  li'l  smile." 

"  In  a  minute,"  said  Buck,  brightening  visibly  at  the 
invitation.  "  Soon's  I  write  out  my  daily  report,  I'm 
with  yuh." 

Mr.  Saltoun  and  Red  went  outside  to  wait.  There  was 
a  bench  flanking  the  side  door.  They  seated  themselves 
upon  the  bench.  Mr.  Saltoun  sat  at  the  end  near  the  door. 
Slumping  down  limply,  he  leaned  his  left  shoulder  against 


The   Broken    Knife  69 

the  door  jamb.  He  felt  a  sharp  jab  through  the  flannel 
of  his  shirt.  He  turned,  rubbing  his  shoulder,  and  found 
a  piece  of  steel  sticking  in  the  wood  of  the  jamb. 

"  Fool  trick  leavin'  knife  blades  where  they  can  stick 
into  people,"  said  he  and  tried  to  pull  it  out  with  his  fin 
gers. 

But  the  knife  had  been  driven  in  deeply.  Not  more 
than  a  half-inch  of  it  protruded. 

"  Maybe  it  ain't  a  knife  blade,"  hazarded  Red  casually. 

"  Shore  it  is.  It's  got  the  li'l  notch  in  it  for  yore  fin 
ger-nail  so's  yuh  can  open  it  easy.  Think  I  don't  know  a 
knife  blade  when  I  see  it?  Say,  Buck,  why  don't  yuh 
pick  the  knife  blades  out  of  yore  door  jambs?  " 

"  Knife  blade?  What  knife  blade?  "  Buck,  inky  pen 
in  inkier  fingers,  came  to  the  door. 

"  There,"  said  Mr.  Saltoun,  pointing. 

Instantly  Buck  Saylor  became  active.  He  dropped  his 
pen,  rummaged  through  the  cluttered  contents  of  a  tool 
box  beneath  the  office  table  and  returned  with  a  pair  of 
pliers. 

Red  watched  with  calculating  interest  as  the  express 
agent  pulled  out  the  knife  blade. 

"  I  remember  now,"  said  Buck  Saylor,  "  hearin'  one  o' 
them  thieves  cussin'  how  he'd  busted  his  knife.  This 
must  be  the  blade.  It's  a  clue." 

"  Har !  Har !  "  Red's  laugh  was  deeply  contemptuous. 
"  All  you  gotta  do  is  find  the  gent  who  owns  the  rest  o' 
the  knife." 

"  Well,"  returned  the  agent,  "  it'll  help,  maybe.  You 
never  can  tell." 

"  Yuh  never  can,"  grinned  Red.     "  Lessee  that  blade." 

Red  took  the  blade  to  a  front  window  as  if  to  give  it 
the  benefit  of  more  light.  Buck  returned  to  his  report. 
Red,  his  back  to  the  agent,  fished  from  his  pocket  the 
knife  he  had  found.  Without  attracting  the  slightest  at 
tention  from  the  absorbed  agent  he  managed  to  open  the 


jo  Lynch    Lawyers 

knife  and  piece  together  the  two  parts  of  the  broken  blade. 
They  fitted  exactly. 

Red's  eyebrows  straightened  in  a  frown ;  then  he  smiled 
briefly  and  unobtrusively  returned  the  jack-knife  to  his 
pocket.  He  remained  at  the  window,  looking  into  the 
street  and  juggling  the  broken  blade  in  the  palm  of  his 
hand. 

"  She's  a  queer  world,"  he  said  aloud  at  the  end  of 
three  minutes'  silent  contemplation  of  life  on  Main  Street. 

"  Huh?  "  Buck  Saylor  abstractedly  looked  up  from  his 
work. 

"  Nothin'.  I  was  just  talkin'.  Here's  yore  knife 
blade,  Buck." 

The  bit  of  steel  tinkled  down  on  the  table,  and  Red 
Kane  went  outside  and  joined  his  employer  on  the  bench. 


CHAPTER    NINE 

LANPHER 

"  I  WANT  the  88's  money !  "  Lanpher  stated  in  no  un 
certain  tones. 

"  Yuh'll  have  to  take  it  out  in  wantin'  then,"  Buck  Say- 
lor  yawned  indifferently,  only  too  happy  to  show  the 
world  without  that  he  was  not  to  be  bluffed  by  the  88 
manager. 

He  even  winked  brazenly  at  Mr.  Saltoun,  who,  with 
Red  Kane  and  as  many  of  the  world  without  as  could 
crowd  in,  fairly  filled  the  express  office. 

"  The  company  will  have  to  pay,"  cried  Lanpher,  who 
had  observed  the  wink,  "  an'  don't  you  forget  it !  " 

"  They  will  not,"  was  the  prompt  retort.  "  The  ten 
thousand  wasn't  insured." 

"  What?  "  Lanpher  screeched. 

"  I  said  yore  money  wasn't  insured."  Buck  leaned 
back  in  his  chair,  thumbs  hooked  in  the  armholes  of  his 
vest,  enjoying  to  the  full  the  effect  of  his  statement  on 
Lanpher. 

"  Not  insured !  "  Lanpher's  skin  went  green  beneath  the 
tan. 

"  Cheer  up,  Lanpher,"  urged  the  marshal.  "  Whadda 
you  care?  You  won't  lose  nothin'.  You  hadn't  given 
no  receipt  for  the  money,  had  yuh?  Well,  then,  the 
party  sendin'  yuh  the  coin  will  have  to  stand  the  loss." 

"  An'  that's  my  company  —  the  folks  that  own  the 
ranch.  They  was  sendin'  me  the  money  to  buy  cows 
with.  An'  now  it's  gone.  Somethin's  gotta  be  done. 


72  Lynch   Lawyers 

Buck,  even  if  that  money  wasn't  insured,  what  right  you 
got  to  sit  round  like  a  bump  on  a  log  with  my  money 
flittin'  Gawd  knows  where?  'Sno  use  tellin'  me  yo're 
sorry.  What  do  I  care  whether  yo're  sorry  or  not?  It 
don't  get  my  money  back.  An'  I  want  it  back.  You  hear 
me!  Yo're  a  fine  express  agent,  lettin'  them  bandits 
prance  down  on  yuh  an'  tie  yuh  all  up.  Why  don't  yuh 
do  somethin',  huh?  Tell  me  that.  Why  don't  yuh  do 
somethin'  ?  " 

"  Why  don't  I  do  somethin'  ?  "  bawled  Buck,  red-faced 
and  temperish.  "  Why  don't  I  do  somethin'  ?  Which  I 
did  do  somethin'.  Which  we  all  did  somethin'. 
We  —  " 

And  Buck  went  on  to  tell  of  what  had  been  done  in 
quest  of  the  stolen  money. 

Lanpher,  gnawing  his  thin,  protruding  upper  lip,  lis 
tened  in  silence.  When  Buck  ceased  speaking,  the  ratlike 
countenance  of  the  88  manager  was  mottled  by  an  ugly 
wrath. 

"  That nester!  "  he  burst  out,  sliding  round  in  his 

chair  to  face  the  assemblage.  "  He  come  through  my 
ranch,  an'  I  warned  him  to  keep  away  from  this  country. 
I  told  him  he'd  be  sorry  for  his  health  if  he  fooled  round 
these  parts.  An'  he's  throwed  down  by  Sweetwater,  has 
he?  An'  allows  he's  gonna  ranch  it,  does  he?  Ranch 
it  nothin'.  We  don't  want  no  such  ranchers  round  here. 
What  happens  soon  as  he  comes,  huh?  What  happens, 
gents?  The  express  office  is  robbed,  the  safe  an'  express 
box  full  o'  money  is  packed  off  —  fifty  thousand  dollars, 
gents  —  an'  the  stage  is  held  up.  Don't  tell  me  this 
nester  had  nothin'  to  do  with  it.  I  seen  him,  an'  he  looks 
like  a  criminal.  An'  he  wears  two  guns.  What's  he 
want  two  guns  for  if  he's  straight?  I  tell  yuh  he  knows 
somethin'  about  what's  goin'  on,  an'  yuh  can  stick  a  pin 
in  that." 

"  Y'betcha!  "  said  the  worthy  Mr.  Lenn,  Mr.  Durkin's 


Lanpher  73 

boon  comrade.  "  I  knowed  from  the  start  that  nester 
was  a  bad  actor." 

"  Shore !  "  corroborated  Mr.  Dill,  known  as  Pickles 
among  his  associates.  "  I  wanted  to  hang  him,"  he  added 
virtuously. 

"  Who  gave  you  license  to  stretch  people?  "  rapped  out 
Red  Kane,  unable  to  contain  himself  longer.  "  Any- 
body'd  think  you  was  the  sheriff.  You  an'  a  lot  o'  gents 
like  you  are  just  too  handy  with  a  rope  till  it  comes  to 
workin'  with  it  for  forty  a  month,  an'  then  you  get  a  lame 
arm  or  a  misery  in  yore  stummick." 

"  Nemmine  about  who  gimme  license,"  was  the  limp 
ing  return  of  Pickles  Dill.  "  I  wanna  see  justice  done, 
an'  I  ain't  the  only  one  wants  to  see  it  neither." 

"  Yeah,"  sneered  Red.  "  They's  quite  a  bunch  of 
you  fellers,  but  so  far  yore  mixin'  in  to  shove  justice 
along  hasn't  helped  yuh  a  whole  lot !  Take  Durkin  now. 
How's  his  head?  An'  Cox.  Can  he  use  his  arm  com 
fortable  yet?  You  can  easy  see  how  it  is,  Pickles.  A 
gent  wants  to  be  mighty  careful  how  he  slams  round 
helpin'  out  justice.  Whadda  you  guess?  " 

Red  Kane  looked  hard  at  Pickles  Dill.  The  men  sur 
rounding  the  latter  felt  an  immediate  distaste  for  his  in 
timate  vicinity  and  moved  elsewhere.  Pickles  was  not  a 
coward,  —  that  is,  with  most  men  he  was  brave  enough. 
But  he  was  not  brave  enough  to  join  issue  with  Red 
Kane.  Taking  a  chance  was  one  thing.  But  going  after 
his  gun  against  Red  Kane  would  not  be  even  taking  a 
chance.  It  would  be  plain,  unadorned  suicide,  —  that 
species  of  self-destruction  which  leads  the  friends  of  the 
deceased  to  remark,  "  The  poor  fool.  Didn't  he  know  no 
better?" 

Pickles  Dill  refused  the  fence  with  all  the  dignity  he 
could  squeeze  out. 

"  We  all  got  our  opinions  o'  what's  what,"  said  Pickles 
Dill. 


74  Lynch    Lawyers 

"  Which  is  one  right  sensible  answer,"  was  Red  Kane's 
endorsement. 

"  But  it  don't  get  nowhere,"  put  in  Lanpher,  who  should 
have  known  better. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Red  Kane  softly,  his  red  hair  bristling 
under  his  hat.  "  Oh,  yes.  It  don't  get  nowhere.  Is 
they  any  particular  place  you  was  wantin'  it  to  go  ?  " 

"Are  you  tryin'  to  shield  this  here  nester?"  Thus 
the  88  manager  evaded  one  question  by  asking  another. 

"  Shield  him  from  what  ?  What's  he  done  that  I  gotta 
shield  him  from?  Tell  me  what's  he  done?  " 

"  If  this  Lorimer  is  one  o'  the  road  agents  —  an'  I'm 
free  to  admit  his  driftin'  in  right  before  the  robberies  is 
mighty  suspicious,  an'  I'll  leave  it  to  the  rest  o'  you  gents 
if  it  ain't  —  if  he  is  one  of  'em  like  I  think  an'  say,  then 
he'd  oughta  be  stretched,  an',  if  he  ain't  one  of  'em,  he's 
a  nester  an'  out  to  get  rich  at  our  expense  like  all  the  rest 
of  'em.  Why,  gents,  the  nesters  in  this  country  is  gettin' 
worse  than  the  itch.  What  they  don't  steal,  they  spoil. 
They're  worse'n  sheep.  We  cattlemen  gotta  stick  to 
gether,  an'  —  " 

"  You  bet  we  have,"  shouted  "  Spunk  "  Lenn.  "  The 
nesters  must  go." 

"Since  when  have  you  been  a  cattleman,  Spunk?" 
Red  Kane  desired  to  know.  "  Last  I  heard,  an'  that  was 
yesterday,  you  was  tendin'  bar  at  the  dance-hall.  We 
cattlemen,  huh?  Yo're  funny." 

Spunk  Lenn  subsided  like  a  pricked  balloon.  Lan 
pher  glared  at  Red  Kane.  The  latter  stared  back.  Lan 
pher  was  the  first  to  drop  his  eyes. 

"  You  wasn't  finished  when  Spunk  stuck  his  horn  in," 
suggested  Red.  "  Le's  hear  the  rest." 

"  I  was  just  gonna  say  that  a  whole  lot  o'  jiggers  have 
been  lynched  good  an'  plenty  on  less  suspicion  than  they  is 
against  this  nester.  Somebody's  gotta  be  lynched  for 
what's  happened." 


Lanpher  75 

"  Gotta?  "  chipped  in  Mr.  Saltoun,  who  detested  Lan 
pher  and  all  his  works.  "  Why  gotta?  " 

"  I  meant  oughta,"  replied  Lanpher  with  a  facial  con 
tortion  that  made  him  more  than  ever  resemble  a  rat. 
"  You  know  yoreself  nesters  ain't  got  no  business  in  this 
country." 

"  Them  Dale  folks  down  there  at  Moccasin  Spring  is 
fine  neighbors,"  continued  Mr.  Saltoun  with  a  wintry 
smile.  "  They  was  nesters,  an'  '  Chuck  '  Morgan  married 
the  girl." 

Lanpher  glowered  and  gnawed  his  upper  lip.  He  re 
called  quite  well  that  Chuck  Morgan  had  married  the 
daughter  of  the  nester  Dale.  Nor  had  he  forgotten  the 
beating  he  had  suffered  at  the  hands  of  the  Bar  S  puncher, 
the  Kid's  Twin.  Still  bright  in  his  memory  glistened 
the  fact  of  Mr.  Saltoun's  having,  on  that  memorable  oc 
casion,  thrown  down  on  him  with  a  six-shooter.  Never, 
while  he  lived,  would  Mr.  Lanpher  be  able  to  forget  these 
occurrences.  But  he  habitually  forced  himself  —  and 
the  forcing  was  not  arduous  either  —  to  ignore  the  little 
misunderstandings  of  the  past.  Lanpher,  the  artful 
logician,  reasoned  that  his  prime  duty  was  toward  his  em 
ployers.  Who  was  he  to  allow  his  personal  differences 
to  interfere  with  their  interests,  especially  when  the  said 
differences  were  with  such  a  reckless,  straight-shooting 
outfit  as  the  Bar  S  boys  ? 

So  Lanpher  ceased  to  glower  and  gnaw,  and  achieved 
a  fair  imitation  of  a  smile.  This  deceived  neither  Red 
nor  Mr.  Saltoun.  They  knew  the  man  inside  and  out. 

"  We  gotta  do  something"  persisted  Lanpher.  "  You 
can  see  that,  gents." 

"  What,  for  instance?  "  Red  Kane  shot  the  question  at 
him  like  a  bullet. 

"  Well,  now  —  "  hesitated  Lanpher. 

"  Short  o'  goin'  out  an'  stretchin'  a  innocent  man,  you 
got  nothin'  to  suggest,  Lanpher,  an'  you  know  it."  Red 


7  6  Lynch   Lawyers 


leveled  a  lean  left  forefinger  at  the  88  manager.  "  I 
dunno  what  yore  li'l  game  is,  but  I  don't  like  it.  You  hear 
me.  I  don't  like  it." 

"  Whadda  yuh  mean?"  Lanpher  half  rose  from  his 
chair. 

Chill  fear  twanged  his  heartstrings.  He  did  not  want 
to  fight,  and  Red  was  manifestly  striving  to  provoke  him. 
Pride  spurred  on  the  wretched  Bobadil  and  clawed  at  the 
tags  of  his  frayed  courage.  Red's  smile  was  as  chilly  as 
Lanpher's  fear  as  he  replied : 

"If  you  don't  know  what  I  mean,  guess." 

"  Le's  not  do  no  guessin',"  suggested  the  voice  of  Kan 
sas  Casey  who  had  entered  unperceived  by  Lanpher  and 
his  audience.  "  Whatsa  use?"  went  on  the  deputy  in 
his  most  persuasive  tone.  "  We're  all  li'l  friends  to 
gether,  ain't  we?  Shore  we  are.  Besides,  if  any  gent 
does  start  gettin'  smoky,  I'll  do  what  I  can  to  stop  him." 

Kansas,  talking  all  the  time,  pushed  his  way  through 
the  crowd  and  halted  beside  Red  Kane.  He  rested  his 
hands  on  his  hips  and  looked  down  at  Buck  Saylor  where 
he  sat  slouched  in  his  chair  behind  the  table. 

"  I  found  yore  dogs,  Buck,"  he  announced. 

"Where  was  they?"  queried  the  agent,  frowning. 
"  Fine  kind  o'  watch-dogs,  they  was,"  he  added,  heavily 
contemptuous. 

"  Yuh  needn't  bother  about  'em  no  more,"  Kansas  told 
him.  "  They  was  both  dead." 

"  Dead !  "  Buck  Saylor  cried,  leaping  out  of  his  chair 
with  such  force  that  it  fell  over  with  a  crash.  "  Dead! 
My  dogs  dead!  Yo're  —  yo're  shore  they  was  my 
dogs  ?  "  he  added,  doubt  and  hope  combined  wrinkling  his 
not  over-clean  features. 

"  I'd  know  yore  dogs  anywhere,"  Kansas  Casey  de 
clared  with  finality.  "  I  knowed  'em  soon's  I  see  'em 
spread  out  under  a  cedar  in  that  timber  south  o'  Squaw 
Draw.  They  was  a  rope  through  their  collars,  an'  they'd 


Lanpher  77 

been  tied  to  the  cedar.  They  was  shot  with  .45s,  by  the 
size  of  the  holes.  I  couldn't  find  the  bullets.  She's 
kind  o'  hot  weather  now,  an'  anythin'  dead  don't  keep 
very  well,  but  I  judged  they'd  cashed  maybe  four  days 
ago." 

Buck  Saylor  did  not  seem  to  hear  what  the  deputy  was 
saying.  He  leaned  forward  and  rested  closed  fists  on  the 
table  top. 

"  I  liked  them  dogs,"  he  ground  out,  gazing  straight 
before  him.  "I  raised  them  from  pups,  I  did,  an'  I 
taught  'em  to  roll  over  an'  play  dead,  an'  beg  an'  bark 
when  they  wanted  out  or  in.  They  was  gentle  as  kittens 
with  me,  an'  I  wouldn't  'a'  had  nothin'  happen  to  'em  for 
a  whole  lot.  My  dogs !  I  —  Where  did  yuh  say  they 
was,  Kansas?  Timber  south  o'  Squaw  Draw,  huh? 
Gents,  yuh'll  have  to  adjourn  some'ers  else.  I  gotta  go 
bury  them  dogs." 

From  the  express  office  the  component  parts  of  the 
crowd  drifted  in  various  directions.  In  the  main  they 
gravitated  to  the  several  saloons. 

Lanpher  stood  alone  on  the  sidewalk  and  watched  Kan 
sas  Casey  shepherding  Red  Kane  and  Mr.  Saltoun  into 
the  Happy  Heart.  Nobody  had  asked  Lanpher  to  drink. 
Nobody,  unless  ax-grinding  was  in  view,  ever  did  ask 
him.  He  was  far  from  being  a  congenial  spirit.  He  was 
aware  of  this  and  was  more  pleased  thereby  than  other 
wise.  Drinking  in  company  carried  no  appeal.  He 
greatly  preferred  taking  his  bottle  to  bed  with  him  and 
tippling  in  solitude. 

He  went  down  to  the  Starlight  Saloon  and  bought  two 
quart  bottles  —  one  of  corn  whisky,  the  other  of  rye. 
These  he  carried  to  his  horse  and  packed  tenderly  in  the 
saddlebags. 

He  mounted  and  started  homeward,  his  brain  busy  with 
his  wrongs.  The  money  consigned  to  him  was  gone, 
and  gone  for  good  and  all,  apparently ;  because  the  money 


7  8  Lynch   Lawyers 

was  gone,  the  cattle  deal  he  had  arranged  must  fall 
through,  and  he  would  lose  the  bonus  of  one  thousand 
dollars  promised  him  by  his  company.  One  thousand 
dollars!  No  wonder  Lanpher  squirmed  as  though  the 
saddle-leather  burned  him.  And  his  old  enemy,  the  Bar 
S,  through  Red  Kane,  had  flouted  him  again. 

The  Bar  S  outfit  was  always  picking  on  him,  meddling 
in  his  affairs,  and  trying  to  make  trouble  regardless. 
Why  should  Red  Kane  and  Mr.  Saltoun  champion  the 
nester  Lorimer?  What  business  was  it  of  theirs,  he'd 
like  to  know.  Nesters  had  no  right  to  live,  the  bush 
whacking  rustlers.  Lynching  was  too  good  for  them, 
and  in  particular  was  it  too  good  for  Lorimer,  this  man 
who  had  defied  him  to  his  face  before  his  own  ranch- 
house  door  and  sworn  he'd  take  up  a  homestead  wherever 
he  wished.  Now  it  would  seem  that  Lorimer  had  kept 
his  word. 

It  was  true  that  Sweetwater  Mountain  lay  not  on  the  88 
range  but  on  that  belonging  to  the  Cross-in-a-box.  Yet 
this  did  not  in  the  least  ameliorate  Lorimer's  offense. 
Lorimer  should  have  moved  on,  gone  out  of  the  country 
when  ordered  so  to  do.  This  he  had  certainly  not  done. 
It  was  too  much.  It  was  not  to  be  borne  by  a  ranch 
manager  with  a  mark  to  make  in  the  world. 

Moreover,  the  nester  probably  knew  a  good  deal  about 
the  robberies.  His  arrival  and  their  occurrence  could 
not  be  fortuitous.  No  doubt  he  was  the  leader  of  the 
gang.  He  had  looked  capable  of  almost  any  villainy. 
Kansas  Casey  and  that  idiotic  posse!  Lanpher  didn't 
believe  they'd  half  searched  the  nester's  ranch,  or  prop 
erly  questioned  him  either.  He  wished  he'd  been  there, 
so  he  did.  He  wouldn't  have  bungled  everything. 


CHAPTER   TEN 

"  HEY,    BOYS,    UP    GO    WE !  " 

IN  the  glory  of  the  sunset  the  88  cook  stood  and 
scratched  his  shoulder  blades  against  the  grateful  corner 
of  the  cook-shack.  As  a  back-scratcher  the  corner  of  a 
house  is  only  excelled  by  a  post  with  the  bark  on.  The 
cook  rolled  ecstatic  eyes  heavenward.  Tom  Bowling, 
straddling  one  end  of  the  washbench,  gravely  watched  the 
cook. 

"  When  I  look  at  you  doin'  that,"  remarked  Tom 
Bowling,  "I  get  homesick.  I  had  a  hawg  once  —  the 
cutest  li'l  feller  he  was,  with  a  curly  tail  an'  everythin'  — 
an'  he'd  scratch  himself  just  like  that,  only,  o'  course,  he 
never  rared  up  on  his  hind  legs.  He  always  stood  on  all 
fours.  Cookie,  lessee  you  stand  on  all  fours.  Now  I 
won't  go  there  neither.  Bill,  whadda  you  think  o'  Cookie 
talkin'  like  that?  'Tain't  right,  is  it?  " 

"No,"  replied  Bill  Allen,  the  freckle-faced  puncher 
occupying  the  other  end  of  the  washbench,  "  no,  Cookie 
oughtn't  to  talk  thataway.  It's  shockin'.  Le's  teach 
Cookie  manners.  You  injun  up  on  him  in  front  an'  I'll 
injun  round  behind  him ;  then,  while  he's  a-kickin'  at  you, 
I'll  grab  him." 

The  cook  retreated  rapidly  to  the  cook-shack  door, 
reached  within  and  possessed  himself  of  a  stick  of  stove- 
wood. 

"  You  lemme  be,"  he  advised  them  earnestly,  "  you 
lemme  be,  or  I'll  shore  whang  you  with  this  here.  I  don't 
mind  foolin',  but  the  last  time  you  done  wrastled  with  me 


80  Lynch   Lawyers 

my  watch  got  stepped  on,  an'  it  ain't  acted  right  since. 
Besides —  Aw  look,  they's  Lanpher  a-comin'  an'  I 
gotta  sling  his  grub  together." 

The  cook  pettishly  slammed  the  stove-wood  stick  into 
a  far  corner  and  began  to  fill  the  coffeepot. 

"Lanpher  is  shore  feelin'  rumdumptious,"  observed 
Tom  Bowling,  squinting  at  the  approaching  horseman. 

"  Sore  as  a  bear  about  somethin',"  said  Bill  Allen. 
"  Bet  he'll  have  us  a-cuttin'  wood  or  hay  to-morrow.  He 
always  does  that  when  his  ol'  liver  ain't  right." 

They  watched  the  gloomy  Lanpher  strip  his  mount, 
turn  the  horse  loose  and  go  into  the  ranchhouse,  dragging 
saddle  and  saddlebags. 

"  Got  a  bottle,  maybe  two,  in  them  bags,"  was  the  sage 
pronouncement  of  Tom  Bowling.  "  Look  how  careful 
he  packed  'em  in." 

"  Shore,"  assented  Bill  Allen.  "  But  if  we  brought  a 
bottle  back  with  us,  that  would  be  somethin'  else  again.  I 
guess  so.  We'd  get  our  time,  y'  betcha." 

"  He  carries  it  good,  I'll  say  that  for  him,"  said  Tom 
Bowling.  "  Outside  o'  bein'  crankier'n  usual,  you'd 
never  know  it  next  day." 

"  Alia  same,  the  old  tanglefoot  is  beginnin'  to  ride  him. 
His  nose  is  startin'  to  show  a  li'l  red  round  the  edges,  an' 
his  appetite  ain't  what  it  was.  He  drinks  more  coffee, 
too.  I  know.  I've  watched  him." 

"  Here  he  comes  now."  Tom  Bowling  gave  his  friend 
a  warning  nudge. 

Lanpher  nodded  surlily  to  the  two  punchers  as  he 
crossed  from  the  ranchhouse  to  the  dining  room  built 
against  the  north  end  of  the  cook-shack.  At  the  door 
Lanpher  paused  and  half  turned. 

"  Tom,"  said  he,  "  you'n  Bill  better  cut  wood  to-mor 
row.  Take  '  Slim  '  an'  Rockwell  along  to  help.  Tell  the 
rest  of  the  boys  the  grass  on  the  flat  is  high  enough  to 
cut  an'  they  might's  well  get  at  it." 


"Hey,   Boys,   Up   Go   We"       81 

Lanpher  took  his  morose  self  on  into  the  dining  room 
and  called  for  coffee  and  bread  and  butter.  He  didn't 
feel  like  eating  any  meat.  It  was  too  hot.  Helluva 
country  to  live  in.  Man  might  as  well  sit  in  an  oven  and 
be  done  with  it.  He'd  rather,  if  anybody  should  ask  him. 

"  Told  yuh  we'd  have  to  cut  wood  or  hay,"  grunted 
Bill  Allen.  "  Our  luck  is  shore  out.  Listen  to  him  tellin' 
Cookie  how  good  the  coffee  is  —  not.  If  I  was  Cookie, 
I'd  tell  him  where  to  go  just  too  quick.  Cookie's  too 
good-natured  with  him.  Where  yuh  goin',  Tom?  " 

"  I'm  gonna  get  the  cross-cut  an'  hide  it  where  Slim 
an'  Rockwell  can't  lay  their  paws  on  it  first,"  was  the 
answer.  "  Me,  I  don't  care  nothin'  about  usin'  a  ax." 

In  the  dining  room,  a  lighted  lamp  before  him,  Lanpher 
sat  long  over  his  coffee  and  bread.  He  ate  no  more  than 
two  slices  of  the  bread,  but  he  drank  seven  cups  of  black 
coffee.  At  the  meal's  end  he  rolled  and  lit  a  cigarette 
and  went  back  through  the  soft  darkness  to  the  ranch- 
house. 

This  night  he  did  not  follow  custom  by  going  to  bed 
with  his  bottle.  Instead,  he  seated  himself  in  the  chair 
behind  the  table  he  used  as  a  desk,  stuck  up  his  feet  on 
the  table  top  and  held  the  bottle  in  his  lap. 

He  had  not  lit  the  lamp.  For  there  were  no  window 
shades,  and  it  would  never  do  for  the  outfit  to  see  him 
drinking.  He  utterly  failed  to  realize  that  what  they  did 
not  actually  know  they  guessed  at  quite  shrewdly. 

Thus  he  sat  solitary  in  the  dark,  smoking  and  drink 
ing.  A  long  slow  draw  at  a  cigarette  and  a  slower  exhale 
would  be  followed  by  a  healthy  pull  at  the  bottle-neck. 
Puff  and  swallow,  puff  and  swallow,  while  the  hours  slid 
away  to  the  ticking  of  the  alarm  clock  on  the  shelf  above 
Lanpher's  head. 

Now  a  man  with  an  educated  stomach  may  drink  a 
quart  of  whisky  and  become  no  more  than  lightly  jingled, 
—  provided  he  takes  his  time  in  the  business. 


8  2  Lynch   Lawyers 

Lanpher  took  his  first  swallow  of  corn  whisky  a  few 
minutes  after  ten  o'clock.  He  gulped  down  the  last  drop 
in  the  bottle  at  half -past  one  in  the  morning.  Remained 
the  other  bottle,  that  containing  the  rye. 

Lanpher  had  intended  to  hold  over  the  second  bottle  for 
another  evening,  but  his  hand  touched  its  smooth  side  as 
he  put  away  the  empty.  His  fingers  hesitatingly  closed 
round  the  neck  of  the  second  bottle.  Why  not  crowd 
two  evenings  into  one  and  make  a  regular  night  of  it  for 
once  ?  Why  not  have  one  more  drink  at  least  ?  A  short 
swallow,  a  mere  tongue-wetting? 

Lanpher  gripped  the  full  bottle  firmly  and  carried  it 
with  him  to  his  chair. 

During  the  tippling  of  the  first  bottle,  the  sense  of 
ill  usage  that  had  afflicted  Lanpher  since  his  departure 
from  Farewell  had  dwindled  and  died.  A  pleasant  feel 
ing  of  friendliness  for  the  world  at  large  had  taken  its 
place.  Even  the  nester  Lorimer  and  Red  Kane  were  no 
longer  Lanpher's  enemies.  They  had  their  faults,  nat 
urally,  but  it  was  a  free  country,  live  and  let  live,  bear 
and  forbear  —  this  was  the  way  to  get  along.  Quite  so. 

But  the  first  drink  of  the  rye  made  Lanpher  consumedly 
thirsty  for  another.  A  second  swallow,  a  third,  two 
gulps  in  succession,  and  Lanpher's  state  of  mellow  bon 
homie  vanished  in  a  breath.  A  vile  and  ugly  humor  took 
its  place.  Which  humor  grew  by  degrees  viler  and 
uglier. 

By  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  floor  of  the  room 
was  thickly  strewn  with  dead  cigarette  butts,  high  tide 
in  the  bottle  was  half-way  down  the  label,  and  Lanpher 
was  fairly  seething  with  the  bitter  realization  of  his 
wrongs.  He  hated  the  Bar  S,  Old  Man  Saltoun,  Red 
Kane  and  the  nester  —  above  all  Lorimer  the  nester. 

Lanpher  set  the  bottle-neck  to  his  lips.  When  he  took 
it  away,  he  puffed  his  cigarette  to  a  bright  glow  and  held 
it  behind  the  bottle. 


«Hey,   Boys,   Up   Go   We"       83 

"  Not  more'n  three  drinks  left,"  he  said  aloud. 
"  Nearly  two  quarts,  an'  I  ain't  drunk  yet.  Hand's  just 
as  steady." 

He  held  the  cigarette  at  arm's  length  to  prove  it.  The 
glowing  spark  hung  motionless.  Lanpher  did  not  know 
that  his  intoxication  was  mainly  mental.  But  he  knew 
that  a  great  strength  and  a  greater  courage  permeated  his 
being.  He  felt  strong  enough  to  lift  a  horse,  and  he  was 
afraid  of  nothing.  For  the  Bar  S,  its  owner  and  punch 
ers,  he  did  not  give  a  single  damn.  Should  any  or  all  of 
that  rousy  outfit  attempt  to  jump  sidewise  at  him  he  would 
show  them  what  was  what.  He,  Lanpher  of  the  88, 
would  run  them  off  the  range  so  far  they'd  need  four 
years  to  ride  back.  They  had  run  blazers  on  him  long 
enough.  He'd  stand  no  more  nonsense  from  them,  and 
he  called  on  his  Maker  to  bear  witness  that  he  wouldn't. 
As  to  that  nester,  Lorimer,  the  man  who  had  helped  steal 
the  ten  thousand  dollars  belonging  to  the  88,  the  man 
who  had  skinned  him  out  of  his  bonus,  as  to  that  unmen 
tionable  dog,  he  would  die  the  death. 

"I'll  hang  him,  by !"  Lanpher  snarled.  "  I'll 

burn  his  shack  an'  his  wagons  an'  run  off  his  stock.  That 
daughter  o'  his  can  cash  for  all  I  care.  She's  got  no 
business  havin'  a  daddy  like  hers." 

Nearly  two  quarts  of  indifferent  whisky  will  shatter 
almost  any  human  being's  sense  of  proportion.  Lanpher 
picked  up  the  bottle  and  made  it  an  even  two  quarts. 

He  lowered  the  bottle,  held  it  to  his  ear  and  shook  it, 
but  he  could  hear  no  answering  guggle  and  swash.  He 
regretfully  set  the  bottle  down  and  wished  for  another. 
Luckily  there  was  no  other  nearer  than  Farewell.  No 
man  may  tuck  away  three  quarts  of  raw  liquor  at  a  sit 
ting  and  continue  on  top  of  ground. 

It  struck  him  that  the  windows  and  doorway  were 
beginning  to  stand  out  grayly  against  the  darkness.  The 
day  was  coming.  Lanpher  went  to  the  doorway  and 


84  Lynch   Lawyers 

looked  out.  A  faint  lemon-yellow  streaked  low  in  the 
east.  Across  the  way  a  sudden  sharp  flare  of  light  out 
lined  the  windows  of  the  cook-shack.  Cookie  had  arisen. 

Lanpher  went  outside.  He  filled  his  lungs  with  the 
clean-washed  air  of  dawn  and  licked  his  thin  lips  cat- 
fashion.  He  walked  to  the  corral  and  back  without  a 
perceptible  stagger.  Continually  he  ran  a  hand  through 
his  tousled  hair.  In  all  that  he  did  he  was  conscious  of 
no  physical  effort. 

"  I  guess  the  boys  won't  do  no  wood-cuttin'  to-day," 
he  said  to  himself.  "  No,  I  guess  not." 

At  breakfast  the  men  of  the  outfit  noticed  that  their 
manager's  eyes  were  over-bright,  his  face  and  nose  over- 
red  and  his  tongue  over-talkative.  They  considered  it  a 
peculiar  species  of  hang-over,  but,  after  all,  it  was  his 
own  affair.  When  the  first  man  to  finish  piled  his  cup 
and  plate  and  pushed  them  from  him,  Lanpher  leaned 
forward,  his  face  sharp-drawn  and  eager. 

"  No  wood-cuttin'  to-day,  boys,"  he  said  in  a  voice  that 
was  the  least  bit  thick.  "  We're  gonna  go  an'  call  on 
that  nester  that  sifted  through  here  awhile  ago  —  him 
with  the  two 'wagons  an'  the  female  daughter.  The  one 
I  told  to  git  an'  he  wouldn't.  He's  took  root  over  at 
Sweet  water  Mountain,  We're  gonna  take  our  ropes 
along  an'  we're  gonna  stretch  him." 

The  punchers  looked  at  Lanpher  in  amazed  silence. 
What  was  the  matter  with  him?  Why  couldn't  he  let 
the  poor  devil  of  a  nester  alone?  Sweetwater  Mountain 
was  over  on  the  Cross-in-a-box  range  anyway.  Let  Jack 
Ritchie  and  his  men  attend  to  the  intruder.  Besides,  the 
nester's  daughter  wras  remarkably  pretty.  They  were 
exceedingly  human,  these  punchers  of  the  88. 

"  What  yuh  wanna  stretch  him  for?  "  asked  Tom  Dow- 
ling. 

"  Because  he  knows  who  stole  fifty  thousand  dollars 
from  the  express  company,  an'  he  won't  tell.  Ten  thou- 


«Hey,   Boys,   Up   Go   We"       85 

sand  dollars  of  it  was  money  consigned  to  me  to  buy 
cattle  with.  Ten  thousand  wheels.  An'  this  jigger  won't 
open  his  yap.  He'll  stand  hangin'." 

"  I  should  remark !  "  cried  Rockwell,  swinging  his  legs 
over  the  bench. 

"  Bet  yuh,"  was  Slim  Mack's  endorsement,  as  Slim 
followed  suit. 

"  Why  ain't  he  been  lynched  already  by  the  Farewell 
bunch?"  queried  shrewd  Tom  Bowling.  "Don't  they 
know  about  it?  " 

"  Shore  they  do,"  declared  Lanpher,  flashing  his  ro 
dent-like  grin  on  Tom  Bowling.  "  Shore  they  do,  but 
Kansas  Casey  won't  let  'em  do  nothin'  till  they  get  more 
proof.  But  me,  I  got  proof  enough.  I  know  he's  a 
coyote  an'  a  road  agent,  an'  I  know  he  knows  all  about 
that  money.  Why,  gents,  he  even  had  some  o'  the  gold 
in  his  pocket.  They  found  part  of  it  on  him,  an'  Kansas 

says  it  ain't  enough  evidence  yet.  By ,  it's  enough 

for  me!" 

Judging  by  the  expeditious  manner  in  which  they  left 
the  dining  room  and  broke  for  the  corrals,  it  was  enough 
for  them  also. 


CHAPTER   ELEVEN 

THE    WARNING 

WHEN  Red  Kane  came  out  of  the  Happy  Heart  the 
dust  of  Lanpher 's  going,  quiescent  in  the  windless  air, 
hung  above  the  southern  trail. 

"  Wonder  if  Lanpher  has  drifted,"  said  Red  Kane. 

"  Nemmine  wonderin'  about  Lanpher,"  was  the  advice 
of  Kansas  Casey,  "  or  you  an'  me  an'  Old  Salt'll  have  to 
traipse  right  back  inside  an'  belly  the  bar  again.  I  ain't 
gonna  have  no  gunplay  in  Farewell  to-day,  Red,  nor 
to-morrow  neither.  You  let  Lanpher  be,  like  a  good 
feller." 

"  Puttin'  her  thataway,"  Red  grumbled,  "  they's  only 
one  thing  to  do.  But  yo're  takin'  a  lot  on  yourself,  Kan 
sas.  I  dunno  as  I  like  it.  Maybe  I'd  feel  better  if  we 
hopped  in  an'  asked  the  barkeep  the  time  o'  day  once 
more.  How  about  it  ?  " 

"  No,  not  another  one,"  Mr.  Saltoun  replied  firmly. 
"  I  wish  you'd  go  down  to  the  blacksmith  shop,  Red,  an' 
ride  herd  on  that  lazy,  no-account  Piney  Jackson  till  he 
gets  the  buckboard  fixed.  He's  a-layin'  down  on  the  job. 
I've  knowed  him  since  General  Forsyth's  fight  on  the  Re 
publican,  an'  he  ain't  changed  a  mite.  Not  a  mite.  An' 
look  here,  Red,  yo're  a  good  puncher  an'  a  hard  worker 
an'  I  like  yuh  a  lot,  but  I'm  with  Kansas  in  this  Lanpher 
business.  Don't  go  projectin'  round  huntin'  trouble  with 
him  if  he's  still  in  town.  The  Bar  S  is  gettin'  along  right 
peaceable  lately  with  the  88,  an'  business  is  so  good  I 
don't  want  it  bothered." 


The   Warning  87 

"  You  was  talkin'  up  to  him  yoreself,"  complained  Red. 

"  I  wasn't  lookin'  for  a  fight." 

"  Me  neither.  What  do  I  wanna  go  fightin'  for?  I'm 
peaceable.  I  don't  carry  no  chips  on  my  shoulder  or 
nothin'.  I  like  Lanpher.  I  wouldn't  wish  him  no  harm 
for  a  lot." 

"  Shore,  I  know  all  about  that,  Red.  We  all  know 
yo're  a  li'l  he-lamb.  What  yuh  snickerin'  at,  Kansas? 
Don't  yuh  mind  him,  Red.  He  can't  help  it,  the  poor 
feller.  Before  I  forget  it,  Tim  Page  wants  a  new  pair 
of  leather  cuffs  an'  a  green  silk  handkerchief,  a  big  one. 
Here's  the  money.  I'd  get  'em  myself,  only  Mike's  out 
some'ers  an'  Miss  Blythe  dunno  where  the  cuffs  are,  an' 
I  gotta  drag  it.  I  been  wastin'  time  round  here  long 
enough.  An',  Red,  if  Piney  gets  the  buckboard  fixed 
before  the  stage  pulls  in,  wait  till  after  an'  get  the  mail." 

Piney  was  finishing  the  last  spoke  when  Red  entered 
the  blacksmith  shop  and  took  a  precarious  seat  on  the 
edge  of  the  cooling-tub. 

"  Yuh'd  oughta  have  her  done  to-night,"  said  Red 
hopefully,  eying  the  amount  of  completed  work. 

"  Done  nothin',"  returned  Piney  with  an  oily  smile. 
:<  Yo're  lucky  if  yuh  get  that  there  buckboard  to-morrow 
night.  Why,  Red,  yuh'd  be  surprised  at  the  size  o'  this 
job.  They's  always  somethin'  new  croppin'  up.  I 
thought  this  mornin'  when  I  seen  the  fifth  wheel  had  a 
crack  that  they  wasn't  no  more  damage,  but  now,  Red  — 
an'  I  was  surprised  too,  'cause  I'd  looked  it  over  real  care 
ful —  now,  this  afternoon,  I  found  I  gotta  make  two 
new  nave-bands  an'  a  understrap.  Them  nave-bands 
gotta  be  fitted  careful,  yuh  know,  Red.  That's  one  job 

I  can't  hurry Huh?  Me  slow?  Well,  I  shore 

like  that.  Which  yo're  the  hardest  gent  to  please  I  ever 
did  see.  An'  me  a-slavin'  like  a  Turk  this  weather  so's 
to  finish  up  for  yuh.  I  had  to  make  all  new  fellys  too, 
Red.  It  wasn't  only  the  spokes.  An'  I  s'pose  you  think 


8  8  Lynch   Lawyers 

I  didn't  have  no  shoein'  to  do.  This  buckboard  ain't  the 
only  thing  I  live  for,  nawsir.  Had  two  mules  an'  a  hoss 
to-day  awready.  If  yuh  wanna  make  yoreself  useful, 
Red,  s'pose  you  hop  out  an'  light  up  a  round  fire  to  heat 
this  tire.  That's  just  s'posin'  yo're  in  a  hurry.  Me,  I 
don't  care  how  long  it  takes.  I'm  good-natured,  I  am. 
I  don't  holler  an'  fret  'cause  other  folks  ain't  got  six  or 
seven  arms  an'  legs  apiece  an'  turn  out  work  a  mile  a 
minute.  I'm  reasonable.  Did  yuh  say  le's  go  have  a 
drink,  Red?" 

"  I  did  not!  "  shouted  the  exasperated  Red.  "  I  said 
le's  get  this  buckboard  fixed  an'  be  quick  about  it !  Why 
don't  yuh  make  a  new  one  an'  be  done  with  it?  " 

"  I  would  if  I  thought  Old  Salt'd  pay  the  bill.  Honest, 
a  new  buckboard  wouldn't  hurt  him  none,  the  tightwad." 

"  Nemmine  whether  he's  a  tightwad  or  not,"  cried  Red 
loyally.  "  He  don't  run  up  a  slashin'  big  bill  for  nothin' 
but  a  measly  old  wheel  or  two  an'  some  busted  wrought 
iron.  Yeah,  I  mean  you,  y'old  fraud.  Be  ready  with 
that  tire.  I'll  have  yore  fire  in  two  shakes." 

Tom  Kane  came  along  while  the  tire  was  heating. 

"  Learnin'  to  be  a  blacksmith,  Red?  "  he  asked  of  his 
now  smutty-faced  brother. 

"  Naw,  I'm  learnin'  Piney  to  be  one.  Lordy,  Tom,  the 
ignorance  o'  this  feller  is  shore  pitiful.  But  he's  comin' 
along.  He'll  make  a  hand  some  day.  Yessir,  it  wouldn't 
surprise  me  none  if  inside  six  months  he'll  be  able  to  tell 
the  difference  between  a  rasp  an'  the  forehammer.  Don't 
yuh  think  so  yoreself,  Piney?" 

"  I  think  this  tire's  about  right,"  grinned  Piney. 
"  Grab  them  long-handled  pincers,  Reddy,  old  settler,  an' 
we'll  swing  her  over  on  the  wheel.  Ready  —  now." 

"  There,"  said  Red,  surveying  the  properly  tired  wheel 
four  minutes  later,  "  that's  what  I  call  a  reg'lar  job. 
Couldn't  be  no  better  if  I'd  a  done  it  all  myself.  How 
about  them  nave-bands  now,  Piney?  " 


The  Warning  89 

But  Piney  was  squinting  northward  along  the  dusty 
length  of  Main  Street.  A  rider  was  coming  into  town, 
his  tall  gray  horse  single-footing  wearily.  Above  the 
patter  of  the  horse's  hoofs  sounded  the  double  click  of  a 
loose  shoe. 

"  No  nave-bands  yet  awhile,  Red,"  said  Piney  Jack 
son.  "  Yonder's  a  customer  a-comin'.  Hear  that  loose 
shoe  clackin'  on  the  near  fore,  an'  the  off  fore  ain't  got 
none  a-tall,  an'  —  " 

"  An'  the  hoss  has  two  hairs  missin'  out  of  his  tail 
besides,"  interrupted  Red,  "  an'  is  seven-year-old  comin' 
eight,  an'  the  feller  a-ridin'  him  has  got  a  blond-headed 
wife  an'  four  children,  all  girls,  one  of  'em  cross-eyed. 
You'd  oughta  be  a  fortune  teller,  Piney." 

"  Anyway,  that  hoss  ain't  shod  behind  neither,"  Piney 
declared  resentfully. 

"  That's  a  easy  guess,"  said  Red,  "  they  ain't  many 
round  here  shoes  behind." 

The  rider  on  the  gray  came  straight  to  the  blacksmith 
shop  and  dismounted.  He  was  a  stranger,  this  rider, 
slim-bodied,  with  wide  shoulders  and  a  wide,  unsmiling 
mouth. 

"  The  li'l  hoss  cast  a  shoe  this  mornin',"  said  the 
stranger  to  Piney,  "  an'  he's  fixin'  to  cast  the  other,  I 
guess.  Anybody  ahead  o'  me?  " 

"  Only  a  wagon  job,"  replied  the  blacksmith,  taking 
the  gray's  bridle.  "  Hosses  always  come  first.  Want 
him  shod  behind?  Them  hoofs  are  kind  o'  beginnin'  to 
chip  a  li'l  bit." 

"  Might's  well  shoe  him  all  round,"  nodded  the 
stranger.  "  Shoe  him  medium,  heavy.  He'll  stand  it. 
He's  no  daisy-cutter." 

He  nodded  again,  turned  abruptly  and  headed  across 
the  street  toward  the  Starlight  Saloon. 

"  Rawhide  hoss,"  said  Tom  Kane,  his  critical  eyes 
sweeping  over  the  gray's  build. 


go  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  Too  long-legged,"  was  Red's  verdict. 

"  Got  a  corn  comin',"  vouchsafed  the  blacksmith,  who, 
the  near  fore  between  his  knees,  was  wrenching  off  the 
shoe  with  the  pincers.  "  An'  I  got  just  one  bar  shoe  his 
size  left  in  the  place.  Hope  the  other  foot's  all  right. 
Damfi  wanna  make  another  bar  shoe." 

"  Why  don't  yuh  cut  away  the  outside  wall  an'  use  a 
plain  shoe?  "  suggested  Red,  anxious  to  expedite  matters 
as  much  as  possible. 

"  That  would  be  just  about  what  you'd  do !  "  Piney  ex 
claimed  in  fine  scorn.  "  But  when  a  hoss  goes  out  of  here, 
he's  shod  proper,  lemme  tell  yuh.  I'll  cut  away  the  horn 
o'  the  outside  wall  all  right,  an'  I'll  shoe  with  a  bar  shoe 
so's  the  frog  takes  the  weight.  A  plain  shoe,  huh!  I 
never  tacked  a  plain  shoe  on  a  hoss  with  corns  yet,  an' 
I  ain't  gonna  begin  now.  Why,  in  the  Sioux  campaign 
o'  '69  I've  knowed  General  Forsyth  to  peg  out  a  black 
smith  for  gettin'  brash  with  hosses'  feet  thataway.  Just 
before  the  fight  on  the  Republican  River,  an'  Old  Salt'll 
tell  yuh  the  same  —  he  was  there,  too  —  just  before  that 
f  raycas  —  " 

"  C'mon,  Tom,"  Red  Kane  besought  in  mock  alarm, 
plucking  his  brother  by  the  sleeve.  "  Piney's  gonna  plant 
them  Injuns  again.  He  dunno  the  war's  over.  C'mon 
before  we  lose  our  arms  an'  legs." 

They  departed,  laughing,  followed  by  much  earnest 
abuse  hurled  by  the  irritated  blacksmith. 

"  Good  feller,  Piney,"  said  Red  Kane,  turning  into  the 
Starlight. 

"  Shore,"  assented  Tom,  "  only  he  can't  never  forget 
he  used  to  fork  a  army  tree.  The  bottle  with  the  saw- 
buck,"  he  told  the  bartender,  "  an'  trot  out  a  box  o'  yore 
cigars." 

"  The  best,"  supplemented  Red.  "  No  cabbages  nor 
ol'  rope  neither  for  us  two  li'l  orphans." 

Red  Kane,  a  cigar  in  the  corner  of  his  mouth,  cupped 


The  Warning  91 

his  right  hand  round  his  glass  and  leaned  comfortably 
against  the  bar. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  bar  stood  the  slim-bodied,  wide- 
shouldered  stranger.  He  paid  no  attention  to  any  of  the 
other  customers.  With  the  bottom  of  his  whisky  glass 
he  was  making  little  wet  rings  on  the  surface  of  the  bar. 
Occasionally  he  would  draw  long  and  deeply  at  the 
cigarette  hanging  from  his  lower  lip  and  slowly  blow 
out  the  smoke  through  his  nostrils. 

Red,  regarding  him  casually,  perceived  that  which  had 
at  first  escaped  his  attention  —  the  stranger  had  inor 
dinately  small  feet.  Red's  own  feet,  in  common  with 
those  of  most  cowboys,  were  not  large,  but  the  stranger's 
were  a  deal  smaller.  No  woman  need  have  been  ashamed 
to  take  the  size  boot  he  wore. 

Red's  idle  eyes  became  aware  that  the  stranger's  boots 
were  an  excellent  pair,  well  made  and  nearly  new.  The 
heels  were  straight,  square-set.  About  the  spurs  there  was 
no  touch  of  silver-inlaid  fancy  work.  They  were  plain, 
hand-forged  steel  spurs,  with  rowels  larger  than  usually 
prevailed  on  the  northern  ranges.  One  of  the  rowel 
points  was  broken  short  off. 

"  I  heard  yuh  throwed  down  on  Carlson,"  said  Tom 
in  a  low  tone. 

"  I  had  to,"  Red  turned  toward  his  brother.  "  Yuh 
see  —  " 

"  Here  he  comes  now,"  Tom  interrupted. 

The  thick-set  figure  of  Carlson  pushed  through  the 
doorway  and  walked  straight  toward  Red  Kane.  The 
latter,  alert  as  the  *  proverbial  weasel,  shifted  position 
slightly.  His  right  hand  dropped  at  his  side.  Carlson 
grinned  pacifically. 

"  No  hard  feelin's,"  he  said,  fronting  up  to  the  bar 
at  Red's  side.  "  Anyhow,  they  ain't  none  from  where  I'm 
standin'." 

"  Which  is  goin'  the  limit,"  declared  Red  with  a  smile. 


92  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  I'd  like  to  know  what's  fairer  than  that?  Barkeep, 
slide  along  another  glass.  Here's  the  bottle,  Carlson. 
Drink  hearty." 

Carlson  drank,  set  down  his  glass  and  looked  straight 
into  Red's  eyes. 

"  Look  out  for  Lenn  an'  Dill,"  he  whispered.  "  I've 
a  notion  they're  a-layin'  for  yuh.  So  long." 

Without  another  word  Carlson  departed. 

"  What  did  he  say?  "  queried  Tom. 

Red  told  him.  Tom's  mouth  straightened  and  he 
hitched  up  his  belt. 

"  They's  always  two  of  us  in  our  family,"  he  said. 
"  It's  shore  white  o'  Carlson,  but,"  he  qualified,  knowing 
his  town  and  its  people,  "  I  kind  o'  guess  he  done  it  only 
'cause  he's  more  hostyle  to  Lenn  an'  Dill  than  he  is  to 
you." 

"  I  ain't  doin'  no  worryin'  why  he  done  it,"  said  Red 
the  practical.  "  He  done  it,  an'  I'm  gonna  go  search 
out  them  two  fellers  an'  give  'em  a  chance  to  spring  their 
joke." 

"  They's  nothin'  like  doin'  things  on  the  jump,"  con 
curred  Tom. 

They  went  out,  these  two  brothers,  and,  because  they 
did  not  know  the  disposition  of  the  enemy,  they  walked 
one  behind  the  other,  a  distance  of  thirty  yards  between 
them. 

They  went  directly  to  the  dance-hall.  Lenn  did  not 
go  on  duty  behind  the  bar  till  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
but  it  was  the  man's  habit  to  infest  the  place  even  in  his 
leisure  moments. 

Red  and  Tom  entered  the  dance-hall  from  different  en 
trances.  It  is  a  point  in  military  strategy  to  fall  upon 
the  enemy  from  flank  and  front  simultaneously.  Neither 
of  the  two  brothers  had  ever  heard  of  Murat  or  Marl- 
borough,  but  no  commander  of  troops  could  have  timed 
his  onfall  at  a  more  opportune  moment  than  they  did 


The   Warning  93 

theirs.  Entering  the  dance-hall  by  way  of  the  rear  and 
side  doors,  they  found  the  enemy  unbraced  and  unready. 

Spunk  Lenn  had  even  partially  dismounted  his  six- 
shooter.  The  cylinder  lay  on  the  bar  beside  a  freshly 
broken  box  of  cartridges.  Spunk  Lenn,  holding  a  piece 
of  paper  against  the  recoil  plate  to  reflect  the  light,  was 
squinting  through  the  barrel.  He  was  cold  sober.  So 
was  not  Pickles  Dill.  This  gentleman  was  leaning 
against  the  bar  and  orating  in  maudlin  tones. 

Red  and  Tom  had  heard  Mr.  Dill's  voice  as  they  came 
up  the  street,  but  the  words  had  been  indistinguishable 
for  that  Mr.  Dill's  delivery  was  thick  and  rather  sketchy. 
Once  they  were  under  the  same  roof  with  Mr.  Dill  they 
could  understand  him  perfectly. 

"  Nawsir,"  Mr.  Dill  was  saying,  thumping  the  bar 
with  a  dirty  fist  and  nodding  his  head  solemnly  at  every 
thump,  "  nawsir,  I  don'  care  how  fuf-fast  he  is  with  a 
gu-gu-gug-gun.  I'm  pup-pup-pretty  fuf-fast  m-ownself." 

Inspired  by  similar  hunches,  Red  and  Tom  halted  just 
within  their  respective  doorways.  Their  entry  had  gone 
unperceived.  Besides  Messrs.  Lenn  and  Dill,  themselves 
and  the  day  bartender,  there  was  no  one  else  in  the  dance- 
hall.  And  the  day  bartender,  a  fat-brained  chucklehead, 
was  oblivious  to  everything  but  the  antics  and  speech  of 
Pickles  Dill. 

"  You  better  go  to  bed,  Pickles,"  advised  Mr.  Lenn, 
busy  with  a  rawhide  pull-through.  "  You  ain't  in  no 
condition  to  act  hostyle.  You  go  to  bed  like  a  good 
feller." 

But  the  "  good  feller  "  stood  firmer  in  his  convictions 
than  he  did  on  his  legs. 

;'  You  —  mum-mean  I'm  drunk,"  he  said,  with  a  hic 
cup.  "  Why  don't  yuh  shay  sho  right  out  shus-stead  o' 
hintin'  rur-round  thish-way.  Well,  I  ain't  drunk,  I'm 

shober's  you  are.  Shoberer,  by  .  An'  I  feel  lul- 

like  hoppin'  out  after  him.  I'm  gug-gonna  do  it.  I'll 


94  Lynch   Lawyers 

ride  the  li'l  hoss  all  round  his  collar.  I'll  make  him  eat 
hish  own  sush-shix-shooter,  that's  what  I'll  do.  I'm 
gonna  dud-do  it,  I  tell  yuh  that  fuf-flat  I'm  gonna  do  it 
now.  You  come  along  an'  wash  me  fuf-fill  Red  Kane 
full  o'  lead." 

He  started  teeteringly  in  the  general  direction  of  the 
front  door.  Spunk  Lenn  seized  him  by  the  elbow  and 
swung  him  hard  on  into  the  bar. 

"  Have  another  drink,  Pickles,"  he  invited.  Then  to 
the  bartender  in  an  undertone,  "  Give  it  to  him  in  a  tin 
cup.  That  oughta  fix  him  so's  I  can  get  him  to  bed 
without  a  fuss." 

Red  Kane  could,  on  occasion,  move  silently.  He  did 
so  on  this  occasion.  When  the  bartender  straightened 
his  body  after  bending  down  to  a  lower  shelf  for  a  tin 
cup,  Red  Kane  was  leaning  nonchalantly  against  the  far 
end  of  the  bar.  The  bartender,  holding  tin  cup  and  bottle 
in  his  hands,  froze  stiff.  No  doubt  it  was  his  chill  that 
made  the  bottle  and  cup  tinkle  pleasantly  together. 

Mr.  Lenn  looked  at  the  bartender  in  surprise.  Then 
his  eyes  followed  the  eyes  of  the  bartender.  Mr.  Lenn 
was  no  catch-as-catch-can  individual.  He  did  not  lose 
his  head.  Not  knowing  how  much  or  how  little  Red 
Kane  had  heard,  he  chose  to  put  the  burden  of  opening 
a  conflict  upon  the  puncher. 

Red  silently  gazed  upon  Mr.  Lenn  and  the  maudlin 
Mr.  Dill.  The  latter's  wandering  eyes  had  not  rested 
upon  Mr.  Kane  as  yet.  Nor  had  they  perceived  the  other 
Mr.  Kane,  who  had  come  up  from  the  rear  and  assumed 
an  attitude  of  lazy  carelessness  on  a  chair  across  the 
room.  But  Mr.  Lenn  had  observed  the  other  Mr.  Kane 
and  the  other  Mr.  Kane's  choice  of  position,  and  it  had 
not  increased  his  peace  of  mind. 

Honor,  notwithstanding  the  proverb  to  the  contrary, 
does  not  always  obtain  among  thieves.  It  does  not  al 
ways  remain  afloat  between  friends.  Mr.  Lenn  and  Mr. 


The  Warning  95 

Dill  were  ostensibly  friends,  and,  now  that  danger  actually 
threatened,  Mr.  Lenn  pushed  Mr.  Dill  into  deep  water 
without  a  qualm.  In  so  doing  Mr.  Lenn's  purpose  may 
have  been  deeper  than  the  water.  He  may  have  expected 
Mr.  Kane  to  shoot  a  drunken  man,  thereby  gaining  the 
disapproval  of  the  multitude.  For  there  is  a  well- 
grounded  prejudice  against  inflicting  bodily  injury  upon 
one  over-served  with  liquor. 

Whatever  Mr.  Lenn's  expectations,  it  is  history  that 
he  reached  across  the  bar  and  tapped  the  witless  bartender 
on  a  trembling  elbow. 

"Gonna  choke  that  bottle  to  death?"  Mr.  Lenn  de 
manded  severely. 

The  bartender  jerkily  placed  cup  and  bottle  before  Mr. 
Lenn.  The  latter  poured  a  stiffish  drink  into  the  tin  cup 
and  shoved  the  cup  into  the  hand  of  Mr.  Dill. 

"  Drink  hearty,"  urged  Mr.  Lenn. 

Mr.  Dill,  raising  the  cup  to  his  lips,  half-turned  toward 
his  friend. 

Across  Mr.  Lenn's  shoulder  Mr.  Dill  perceived  Mr. 
Red  Kane  standing  near  the  end  of  the  bar.  In  effect, 
he  saw  two  Mr.  Red  Kanes.  While  he  looked,  the  two 
became  three.  Which  phenomena  intrigued  Mr.  Dill. 

He  set  down  the  tin  cup  without  drinking  and  laughed 
crazily. 

"  Lul-look,"  he  said,  pointing  a  shaking  arm  and  hand. 
"  Lul-look.  There's  Red  Kuk-kane  nun-now." 

"  Yeah,"  murmured  Mr.  Lenn  in  the  tone  of  one  who 
has  forgotten  something.  "I  see  him." 

Mr.  Lenn  slipped  to  the  rear  of  Mr.  Dill. 

"  They's  two  o'  yuh,  Ru-Red,"  said  Mr.  Dill  with  a 
puzzled  frown.  "  I  didn't  know  yuh  was  twins."  Mr. 
Dill's  wavering  gaze  staggered  sidewise  and  embraced 
Red  Kane's  brother  Tom  where  he  sat  on  his  chair  against 
the  side  wall  "  An'  Tom's  twins  too,"  Mr.  Dill  went 
on  distractedly.  "I  dud-don't  understan'-  it.  Whysh 


9  6  Lynch   Lawyers 

Ru-Red  twins  an'  whysh  Tom  twins  too.  Both  of  'em 
tut-twins,  an'  I  wanna  know  why.  Cue-can  you  tell  me 
why?" 

He  wheeled  inward  and  stabbed  an  uncertain  forefinger 
at  the  bartender. 

"I  —  "  began  the  bartender. 

"  My !  "  cried  Mr.  Dill.  "  Yo're  twins  too !  An' 

Spuh — Spuh — Spunk  he's  twins.  An'  that  bottle's  tut- 
twins." 

He  reached  for  the  bottle  and,  naturally,  miscalculated 
and  clutched  a  handful  of  air.  He  grabbed  again,  wildly, 
and  upset  the  bottle.  It  rolled  across  the  bar,  over  the 
edge  and  smashed  on  the  floor.  The  mishap  annoyed  Mr. 
Dill. 

"  What  did  yuh  do  that  for?  "  he  roared  at  the  bar 
tender.  Then,  his  mood  changing  on  the  instant,  he  be 
gan  to  weep.  "  Poor  li'l  bottle,"  he  moaned.  "  Never 
did  no  harm  to  nobody.  All  broke  to  pieces.  Poor  li'l 
bottle." 

He  wiped  his  eyes  with  the  back  of  his  hand  and 
sniffled.  Obviously  he  had  completely  forgotten  ever 
having  borne  malice  toward  Red  Kane.  Mr.  Lenn  was 
at  a  loss.  His  eyes  flickered  nervously.  Red  Kane 
smiled.  He  had  shrewdly  suspected  an  evil  intent  at  the 
back  of  Mr.  Lenn's  mind. 

"  Throw  the  red-eye  into  him,  Spunk,  why  don't  yuh?  " 
he  queried.  "  Then  maybe  he'll  get  his  dander  up." 

"  What  yuh  talkin'  about  ?  "  Thus  Mr.  Lenn,  wearing 
his  best  expression  of  wondering  innocence. 

"  Me  ?  Yuh  mean  me  ?  Yuh  mean  what  am  I  talkin' 
about,  huh?  Oh,  I  was  just  a-talkin'.  I  do  that  now  an' 
then.  Kind  of  a  habit  with  me.  Djuh  know,  Spunk 
I'll  bet  another  drink  would  help  his  memory." 

"  'His  memory,'  "  repeated  Mr.  Lenn. 

"  Shore,  his  memory.     Ain't  he  forgot  somethin'  ?  " 

"  I  dunno  what  yo're  talkin'  about,"  declared  Mr.  Lenn 


The   Warning  97 

palely.  He  felt  queerly  within,  did  Mr.  Lenn.  Red 
Kane  seemed  bent  on  forcing  a  fight.  Every  advantage 
lay  with  the  puncher.  Mr.  Lenn  cursed  Pickles  Dill  and 
his  loose  tongue. 

"If  you  ain't  gonna  give  him  that  drink,  you'd  oughta 
take  him  home,"  Red  Kane  pointed  out  kindly.  "  He 
ain't  in  no  condition  to  leave  loose  on  the  range,  Pickles 
ain't.  Look  at  him,  Spunk.  He's  fallin'  asleep  right 
now  this  minute." 

Even  as  Red  spoke,  Mr.  Dill,  who  had  been  clinging 
limpet-like  to  the  bar,  relaxed  his  hold,  slid  gently  to  the 
floor,  buried  his  nose  in  his  hat  and  began  to  snore. 

"  Pack  him  into  the  back  room,"  Mr.  Lenn  said  to  the 
bartender  and  started  to  leave  the  dance-hall. 

The  voice  of  Red  Kane  halted  Mr.  Lenn  before  he 
reached  the  door. 

:t  Yo're  forgettin'  somethin',  too,"  said  Red  Kane. 

There !  It  had  come,  the  challenge.  Mr.  Lenn's  scared 
nerves  read  a  menace  into  Red's  simple  words.  He 
whirled,  his  body  crouching,  his  right  hand  jerking  down 
and  up. 

Fully  expecting  to  meet  the  flash  and  smoke  of  Red's 
six-shooter  he  pulled  trigger  three  times  before  he  real 
ized  that  his  hammer  was  clicking  vainly  and  that  Red's 
thumbs  remained  hooked  in  his  belt. 

"  Told  yuh  yuh'd  forgot  somethin',"  Red  Kane  ob 
served  calmly.  "  Yore  cylinder.  Yuh  left  it  layin'  on 
top  of  the  bar." 

Mr.  Lenn  perceived  with  shame  that  Red  Kane  was 
telling  the  truth.  He  looked  at  the  empty  frame  of  his 
gun  with  sullen  eyes. 

"  I  expect  yo're  a-wishin'  that  cylinder  had  been  in 
place,"  Red  observed  softly.  "  Is  that  it?  " 

Mr.  Lenn  shook  his  head. 

"  I  thought  —  "  he  began. 

"  Nemmine  what  yuh  thought,"  interrupted  Red  Kane. 


98  Lynch    Lawyers 

"  It  don't  signify  —  really.  Only  —  only  I'd  be  kind  o' 
careful  how  I  throwed  down  on  folks,  feller.  I'd  shore 
be  a  heap  careful.  S'pose  now,  Spunk,  you  pick  up  yore 
li'l  tin  cylinder  an'  pull  yore  freight.  I  get  tired  lookin' 
at  yuh  sometimes.  Speakin'  plain,  Spunk,  I'd  drag  it 
out  o'  town  if  I  was  you.  An',  if  I  was  a  gent  thoughtful 
of  my  health,  I'd  do  it  inside  o'  ten  minutes.  Yuh  see, 
feller,  I'm  gonna  go  down  to  Tom's  now  after  my  Win 
chester.  Then  I'm  comin'  back,  an'  I'm  gonna  scout 
round  for  you,  an',  if  yo're  anyways  visible,  I'll  give  yuh 
the  whole  magazine.  That's  the  how  of  it,  Spunk." 


CHAPTER   TWELVE 

A    WILD    TIME 

INTO  this  lively  situation  blundered  headforemost  the 
owner  of  the  dance-hall,  the  late  Mr.  Stute's  successor, 
one  "  Piggy  "  Wads  worth.  A  plumpish  man,  Piggy's 
mental  processes  were  slow,  but  he  was  sufficiently  bright 
to  sense  a  certain  tension  in  the  atmosphere.  He  turned 
a  moon  face  from  one  to  another  of  those  present. 

"  What's  the  trouble  ?  "  he  asked,  wrinkling  an  anxious 
forehead. 

He  wished  no  violence  in  his  place.  Violence  he  ab 
horred.  Violence  and  a  too  active  participation  in  public 
affairs  had  been  the  death  of  Mr.  Stute,  the  erstwhile 
proprietor.  In  his  mind's  eye  Piggy  could  still  see  the 
white  form  of  Mr.  Stute  —  he  was  hanged  in  his  night 
shirt  —  a  dangle  against  the  sky.  As  a  dance-hall  owner 
honest  Piggy  was  decidedly  miscast.  He  should  have 
been  born  a  periwinkle. 

"  What's  the  trouble?"  he  repeated.  "Don't  start 
nothin'  now,  Spunk.  This  here's  a  respectable  place,  an' 
I'm  aimin'  to  keep  it  so.  I  don't  wanna  get  mixed  up  in 
no  gun-plays  myself,  an'  I  don't  want  none  in  here. 
What  yuh  fussin'  with  a  customer  for,  anyhow?  I've 
told  yuh  time  an'  again  to  hang  onto  yore  temper  in  here. 
It  drives  away  trade  to  have  a  barkeep  a-rowin'  alia 
time.  Folks  don't  come  in  here  for  a  fraycas.  They 
come  in  for  a  drink,  y'understand.  Whatsa  trouble,  any 
how?  I've  done  asked  yuh  three  times." 

"If  yuh  waited  after  the  first  time  instead  o'  surgin' 


ioo  Lynch   Lawyers 

hell-bent  into  a  sermon,  I'd  'a'  told  yuh,"  snarled  Spunk 
Lenn.  "  They  ain't  no  trouble.  I'm  playin'  cat's-cradle 
with  Red  Kane.  Whadda  you  guess  ?  " 

"  Spunk's  tellin'  the  truth  —  for  once,"  remarked  Red 
Kane.  "  But  I  dunno  as  I'm  a  heap  anxious  to  keep  on 
playin'  cat's-cradle  with  Spunk.  He's  too  swift  for  me 
or  somethin'.  I  like  to  gamble,  but  a  shore  thing  is  too 
much.  Spunk  is  leavin'  our  midst." 

Fat  Piggy  stared  and  scratched  the  top  of  his  head, 
where  the  hair  grew  sparsely. 

"  He's  leavin'?  Whadda  yuh  mean?"  Again  Piggy 
scratched  the  top  of  his  head. 

"  I  mean  you'll  have  to  look  round  for  a  new  night 
barkeep,"  explained  Red  Kane.  "  Yuh  see,  Piggy, 
Spunk's  decided  to  shoo  himself  away.  Spunk,"  he  con 
tinued,  his  light  tone  becoming  hard,  "  don't  lemme  keep 
you.  Yore  cylinder  is  still  on  top  o'  the  bar.  Lessee 
how  fast  yuh  can  pick  it  up  an'  get  out  o'  that  door." 

"If  it  wasn't  for  yore  brother  behind  me,"  said  Mr. 
Lenn,  stepping  to  the  bar  and  retrieving  his  property, 
"  I'd  shoot  it  out  with  yuh." 

"  No,  that's  not  yore  reason,  Spunk.  Never  say  so. 
Tom's  bein'  behind  yuh  has  nothin'  to  do  with  it.  You 
ain't  got  the  nerve.  You  hear  me.  You  ain't  got  the 
nerve.  If  yuh  had  the  nerve,  yuh'd  slip  in  yore  cylinder, 
slam  home  yore  center-pin  an'  turn  yore  bull  loose.  See, 
my  hand  ain't  no  more'n  reasonable  close  to  my  six- 
shooter,  an'  you  got  yore  gun  out." 

Spunk  Lenn's  fingers  ceased  moving.  The  cylinder  re 
mained  half  in,  half  out  of  the  frame. 

"  Huh?  "     Mr.  Lenn  looked  frowningly  at  Mr.  Kane. 

"  I'm  tellin'  yuh  y'aint  got  the  nerve  to  cut  down  on 
me  again.  Y'aint  got  the  nerve,  an'  right  now  this  min 
ute  I'm  gonna  see  how  li'l  nerve  you  really  have  got." 

Red  Kane  sprang  forward  and  planted  a  jab  on  the 
nose  of  Mr.  Lenn.  The  latter,  with  a  squeak  of  anguish, 


A  Wild   Time  101 

promptly  essayed  to  complete  the  assembling  of  his  six- 
shooter.  But  Red  Kane  did  not  wait  on  the  convenience 
of  Mr.  Lenn.  He  bored  in,  keeping  his  elbows  close  to 
his  ribs,  and  heavily  punished  Mr.  Lenn's  eye  and  ear. 
The  cylinder  flew  from  Spunk  Lenn's  ringers.  He  struck 
savagely  at  his  opponent  with  the  barrel  of  the  six- 
shooter.  Red  Kane  dodged  the  blow,  wrenched  the 
weapon  from  the  hand  of  Mr.  Lenn  and  clipped  him 
across  the  mouth  with  it. 

Spitting  blood  and  three  teeth,  Mr.  Lenn  lowered  his 
head  and  charged  Red  Kane.  Which  move  was  most 
ill-advised.  Red  Kane  raised  a  hard  knee  and  smote  Mr. 
Lenn  on  his  already  painful  nose. 

With  a  sound  midway  between  a  grunt  and  a  groan 
Mr.  Lenn  went  over  backward  and  landed  squarely  on 
the  stomach  of  the  sleeping  Mr.  Dill.  This  was  lucky  for 
Lenn.  Otherwise  he  would  have  broken  his  neck.  The 
stricken  Pickles,  as  his  comrade  rolled  off  his  stomach, 
doubled  up  like  a  closing  jack-knife.  He  wheezed  and 
gasped,  clutching  his  middle  the  while  with  both  hands. 
Then  nausea  seized  him,  and  he  wallowed  like  a  pig 
under  the  feet  of  the  fighting  men. 

Mr.  Lenn,  when  he  arose  again,  charged  his  antagonist. 
But  not  head  down  this  time.  He  had  learned  that  lesson. 
He  went  forward  swinging  both  fists,  only  to  go  down 
flat  beneath  a  shower  of  hooks  and  jabs  to  the  face. 

Red  Kane  did  not  know  that  the  blows  he  was  deliver 
ing  so  well  were  hooks  and  jabs.  He  had  never  seen  a 
prize-fight,  and  of  fistic  science  he  was  naturally  as 
ignorant  as  a  Mennonite  maid.  But  he  was  a  willing 
worker,  had  plenty  of  instinct  and  was  hard  as  the  pro 
verbial  keg  of  nails.  The  ex-bartender  could  not  go  the 
distance  with  the  cowboy.  But  there  are  more  ways  than 
one  of  winning  a  fight,  especially  when  the  row  is  unham 
pered  by  rules. 

From  his  latest  knockdown  Mr.  Lenn  arose  slowly. 


IO2  Lynch   Lawyers 

There  was  blood  on  his  face  and  murder  in  his  heart. 
Moreover,  there  was  craft  in  his  brain  and  a  bowie  under 
his  vest.  He  was  so  consumed  with  rage  engendered  by 
the  acute  pain  of  his  hurts  that  he  had  long  since  for 
gotten  to  be  afraid.  Some  men  are  like  that. 

Mr.  Lenn,  swaying  on  his  feet,  was  not  nearly  so  weary 
as  he  looked.  He  shook  his  head  as  if  to  clear  it  and 
dashed  the  blood  from  his  fast-closing  eyes  with  the  back 
of  a  bruised  left  hand.  His  right  arm  he  kept  across 
his  middle,  the  forearm  parallel  to  and  immediately  above 
his  belt,  the  fist  close  in  to  the  points  of  the  open  vest. 

He  crouched  and  tottered  toward  Red  Kane.  The 
latter  was  calmly  awaiting  an  opportunity  to  administer 
to  Mr.  Lenn  his  quietus.  A  right  or  left  swing  neatly 
planted  beneath  an  ear  or  on  the  point  of  the  jaw  would 
be  best,  Red  decided  as  he  watched  the  advance  of  his 
battered  antagonist. 

Spunk  Lenn  gave  every  indication  of  a  man  almost 
out  on  his  feet.  He  gasped  like  a  netted  fish.  His  knees 
wobbled  beneath  him.  As  acting  it  was  badly  overdone, 
but  Mr.  Lenn's  audience  was  not  disposed  to  be  critical. 

Red  Kane,  in  his  unblissful  ignorance,  set  himself  to 
send  over  the  knockout.  Mr.  Lenn  appeared  to  give  \vay 
suddenly.  He  sank  down  almost  to  the  floor.  He  rested 
his  left  hand  on  the  floor  to  steady  himself.  His  body 
bowed  forward.  The  outswinging  flap  of  his  vest  com 
pletely  concealed  his  right  hand. 

Then  his  slack  body  straightened  with  a  snap  from 
the  heels,  and  he  sprang  forward  and  upward.  No  cata 
mount  could  have  been  brisker.  Mr.  Lenn's  right  hand 
shot  out  from  beneath  the  vest.  There  were  eight  inches 
of  gray  steel  projecting  from  that  right  hand,  and  with 
all  the  strength  of  arm  and  shoulder  Mr.  Lenn  stabbed 
straight  at  Red  Kane's  stomach. 

But  the  Sisters  Three  fought  for  Red  Kane  that  day. 
Had  the  puncher  been  going  away  at  the  moment,  nothing 


A   Wild   Time  103 

could  have  prevented  the  grooved  blade  from  ripping  up 
his  vitals.  But  he  was  coming  in  at  the  psychological 
nick,  and  he  met  the  blow  half-way.  The  point  of  the 
bowie  struck  one  of  the  brass  conchas  on  his  chaps, 
glanced,  and  did  no  more  material  damage  than  slit  the 
leather  over  his  hip  bone. 

Red  Kane  would  have  been  perfectly  justified  had  he 
stepped  back,  pulled  his  six-shooter  and  filled  the  crafty 
Mr.  Lenn  full  of  holes.  But  even  then,  with  Mr.  Lenn 
gathering  himself  for  another  murderous  effort,  Red  did 
not  draw  his  firearm.  Instead  he  hopped  to  one  side, 
snatched  up  a  handy  chair  and  flailed  Mr.  Lenn  across  the 
face  with  it. 

Mr.  Lenn  dropped  his  knife  and  reeled  backward. 
He  was  suffering  the  most  exquisite  torture,  for  a  chair 
leg  had  rapped  his  funny-bone  and  a  corner  of  the  chair 
had  deprived  him  of  three  more  of  his  most  prominent 
teeth  and  broken  his  nose.  He  gave  vent  in  his  agony 
to  a  shrill  ululation  that  Red  Kane  cut  short  with  another 
swing  of  the  useful  chair.  Mr.  Lenn  tumbled  senseless 
into  the  angle  between  the  bar  and  the  front  wall  and 
lay  huddled,  a  sadly  crumpled  human  being. 

Red  Kane  gazed  down  at  his  handiwork  and  flung  the 
chair  from  him. 

"  Y'oughta  make  yore  chairs  heavier,"  he  observed  to 
the  marveling  Piggy.  "If  the  one  I  used  had  five  more 
pounds  heft,  I'd  'a'  knocked  him  silly  first  crack." 

"  My !  "  breathed  the  awed  Piggy,  staring  at  the 

wreck  of  his  late  employee.  "My !  I  never  seen 

nothin'  like  it  since  I  was  born.  Yuh  —  yuh  wouldn't 
hardly  think  they's  a  real  face  behind  all  that  blood  an' 
mush." 

'  Yuh'd  oughta  shot  the  polecat,"  Tom  reproached  his 
brother.  "  I'd  'a'  done  it.  Don't  yuh  see,  yuh  idjit,  in 
stead  o'  windin'  the  play  up  like  yuh  waded  out  to  do  so 
careless  an'  free  yuh've  just  started  a  new  deal?  But 


IO4  Lynch   Lawyers 

maybe  yuh  rubbed  him  out  after  all,"  he  added,  bright 
ening  perceptibly.  "  Lessee." 

Tom  crossed  to  the  battered  Mr.  Lenn  and  fingered  his 
person  at  various  points  of  vantage.  Red  Kane  scooped 
up  the  discarded  bowie,  revolver-frame  and  cylinder  and 
tossed  the  lot  through  the  doorway  into  the  street.  The 
ironmongery  slithered  at  the  feet  of  that  semi-invalid 
Mr.  Cox,  who,  attracted  by  the  shortened  shrieks  of  Mr. 
Lenn,  was  coming  along  the  sidewalk.  Mr.  Cox,  surmis 
ing  by  the  very  shrillness  of  the  screams  that  one  of  the 
dance-hall  girls  was  indulging  in  delirium  tremens  and 
fearing  to  miss  some  part  of  the  excitement,  hurried 
blithely  up.  His  expectant  grin  became  even  more  ex 
pectant  at  sight  of  the  shower  of  hardware.  She  was 
throwing  things.  She  would  no  doubt  furnish  plenty  of 
amusement.  He  wondered  why  she  had  stopped  scream 
ing. 

"  I  guess  he'll  live  all  right,"  Tom  Kane  was  saying 
regretfully  when  Mr.  Cox  entered.  "  He's  breathin' 
right  good,  an'  I  don't  think  his  skull's  fractured.  Shore 
tough  luck  that  chair  bein'  so  light." 

"  Here's  Coxy,"  cried  Red  joyously.  "  Good  ol' 
Coxy,  lame  arm  an'  all.  How's  the  pin,  old  settler?  " 

But  the  old  settler  was  in  no  mood  for  idle  banter,  — 
at  least  not  from  the  tongue  of  Red  Kane.  He  had  not 
forgotten  what  Red  had  said  to  him  at  the  ranch-house  by 
Sweetwater  Mountain.  The  grin  faded  abruptly  from 
the  mouth  of  Mr.  Cox  as  he  faced  the  laughing  devil  in 
Red's  gray  eyes.  The  eyes  of  Mr.  Cox  shifted  quickly 
to  the  object  that  had  at  one  time  been  a  perfectly  good 
bartender. 

If  Mr.  Cox  could  not  recognize  the  features,  he  recog 
nized  the  clothing.  His  expression  grew  very  glum. 

"  Don't  look  so  happy,"  suggested  the  impudent  Red. 
"  Ain't  yuh  sorry  for  Spunk  even  a  little  bit  ?  Where's 
yore  sympathy  ?  " 


A   Wild   Time  105 

This  was  rubbing  it  in  with  a  vengeance.  Cox's  side- 
wise  glance  at  Red  was  savage. 

"  Yeah,"  said  Cox,  "  I'm  sorry  for  Spunk  all  right,  an! 
I  got  sympathy  to  burn.  Don't  yuh  worry  none  about 
that.  I  even  got  sympathy  for  you,  Red." 

"  Why  me?     Do  I  look  like  I  needed  it?  " 

"  Yuh'll  need  it  all  right.     Yuh'll  need  it  a-plenty." 

"  That  sounds  real  interestin',"  drawled  Red.  "  Who's 
gonna  make  me  need  sympathy?  " 

But  Rooster  Cox  was  not  to  be  drawn  further.  One 
corner  of  his  malicious  mouth  lifted  in  a  crooked  smile, 
and  he  departed,  nursing  his  injured  arm. 

"  Gonna  tell  Durkin,"  thought  Red  contemptuously. 
"  Piggy/'  ne  said  aloud,  "  when  Spunk  comes  to,  tell  him 
I'll  stretch  out  his  ten  minutes  till  to-morrow  mornin'  at 
six  o'clock.  I'll  be  lookin'  for  him  after  six.  C'mon, 
Tom." 


CHAPTER    THIRTEEN 

THE    DARK    PLACES 

"  WILL  this  be  large  enough?  " 

The  attractive  Miss  Blythe,  Mike  Flynn's  partner  in 
the  Blue  Pigeon,  spread  a  green  silk  handkerchief  upon 
the  counter. 

"  I  guess/'  said  Red  Kane.  "  Tim  shore  ought  to  be 
pleased  with  that.  Yes,  ma'am,  cuffs  an'  the  handker 
chief  will  be  all.  Nemmine  wrappin'  up  the  cuffs.  I'll 
tie  them  on  the  saddle,  but  yuh  can  put  a  piece  o'  news 
paper  round  the  handkerchief  if  yuh  will.  Don't  wanna 
get  it  dirty  if  I  can  help  it.  Where's  the  man-talkin' 
parrot?" 

"  Out  back,"  she  twinkled,  nodding  her  head  toward 
the  sleeping-quarters  of  Mike  Flynn.  "  I  won't  have  the 
horrid  thing  in  here  while  I'm  tending  store.  Such  lan 
guage  I  never  listened  to  in  all  my  born  days.  Seven  dol 
lars  and  four-bits,  Mr.  Kane." 

"  Betcha  yo're  buyin'  them  things  for  yoreself,"  Tom 
observed  skeptically  when  he  and  his  brother  were  walk 
ing  homeward. 

"  I  was  not,"  denied  Red.  "  They're  for  Tim  Page, 
like  I  said.  I  s'pose  Tim  wants  to  be  fancy  for  once. 
He  shore  oughta  be  in  that  handkerchief.  She's  a  right 
outstandin'  green." 

"  Alia  same,  I'll  bet  they  ain't  for  Tim,"  insisted  Tom. 
"  Yo're  fixin'  on  goin'  out  to  Sweetwater  Mountain  again, 
an'  yuh  wanna  look  joyful.  Can't  fool  me.  I  know  you, 
old-timer.  Nemmine  denyin'  it,  I  wouldn't  believe  yuh 


The   Dark    Places  107 

if  yuh  told  me  till  yuh  was  blue  in  the  face.  Red,  you 
make  me  sick !  What  do  yuh  wanna  go  get  married  for  ? 
I  don't  mind  a  fool.  Gotta  expect  that,  but  it  ain't  nec 
essary  to  be  a  damn  fool,  an'  you  personal  are  actin'  like 
the  damndest  fool  ever  drawed  breath.  You  mark  what 
I'm  tellin'  yuh,  Red,  you'll  be  sorry.  You'll  be  sorry 
shore  as  yo're  a  foot  high.  Look  at  me,  I'm  single;  I'm 
happy;  I'm  makin'  money.  What  more  do  yuh  want? 
What  more  can  yuh  want?  Hell's  bells,  do  yuh  want  a 
woman  tellin'  yuh  how  many  pills  yuh  can  smoke  an'  su- 
pervisin'  yore  drinks? 

"  Think  o'  that,  Red.  Can't  go  into  the  Happy  Heart 
for  the  smallest  kind  of  a  snifter  without  havin'  yore  wife 
askin'  about  it  an'  objectin'  like  one  o'  my  mules  when 
Piney  Jackson  shoes  him.  An'  if  y'ever  got  an  edge  on, 
Red,  an'  brought  it  home  with  yuh,  she'd  raise  the  roof. 
That's  the  kind  o'  hairpin  a  wife  is.  I  know;  I  got  mar 
ried  friends,  an'  they  told  me. 

"  Now  shut  up.  Lemme  talk.  You'll  have  plenty 
time  to  jaw  while  I'm  rustlin'  the  chuck.  You  take  yore 
Dot  Lorimer  friend  now.  She's  got  a  temper,  she  has. 
S'pose  yuh  don't  do  everythin'  to  suit  her  —  forget  to 
chop  the  light  wood  or  somethin'.  What'll  she  do,  huh  ? 
She  won't  say  much.  Not  her.  She  ain't  that  sort. 
She'll  take  the  hatchet  or  a  rollin'  pin  an'  beat  the  drum 
on  yore  face.  That's  what  she'll  do." 

"  Maybe  I'll  like  it,  Tom,"  grinned  the  amused  Red. 
"  When  yuh  like  a  person,  yuh  like  what  they  do  to  yuh. 
Look  at  me  now.  Yo're  a-whangin'  at  me  with  yore 
tongue,  an'  I  ain't  sayin'  a  word.  Shows  I  like  yuh. 
Yuh  don't  appreciate  it  neither.  Fine  brother,  you  are." 

"  I  know  when  I'm  well  off,  you  bet.  I  ain't  doin'  my 
endeavors  to  stick  my  head  through  the  loop  of  a  rope. 
I  ain't  got  nothin'  in  petticoats  to  boss  me  round,  an'  I 
ain't  gonna  have  nothin',  neither.  Single  cussedness, 
that's  me." 


io8  Lynch   Lawyers 


"  You'll  be  followin'  my  trail  in  less'n  a  year,  maybe 
sooner.  You'll  see." 

"  I  will  not.  Not  while  I  know  how  to  cook  I  won't. 
They's  ham  to-night,  Red.  Ham'n  'taters.  Wanna  wait 
while  I  make  biscuits  ?  All  right.  Grab  the  ax  an'  split 
the  light  wood  for  to-morrow  mornin'  an'  to-morrow 
night  too  while  yo're  about  it.  Yuh  might's  well  learn 
bein'  useful,  cowboy.  Then  yuh  won't  mind  it  so  much 
later." 

Tom  nimbly  dodged  through  the  doorway  of  his  shack 
and  slammed  the  door  just  as  a  stick  of  stove  wood 
crashed  against  the  planking. 

"  Alia  same,  he's  the  fool,"  Red  told  himself,  as  he 
twiddled  the  ax  out  of  the  chopping  block.  "  I  don't  be 
lieve  she'd  act  thataway.  She  couldn't.  She  ain't  that 
kind  of  a  girl." 

It  was  in  the  small  hours  of  the  morning  when  Tom 
Kane,  sleeping  the  sleep  of  a  tired  man,  was  smartly 
cracked  on  the  head  by  a  heavy  article.  He  came  alive 
on  the  instant,  bounced  upright  and  automatically  felt  for 
his  six-shooter.  Beside  his  bunk,  dimly  visible  in  the 
pale  light  of  the  early  dawn,  stood  the  dark  figure  of  his 
brother. 

"  T'sall  right !  "  Red  cried  hastily.  "  I  was  only  tryin' 
to  find  out  what  time  it  was  without  wakin'  yuh,  an'  the 
alarm  clock  dropped  on  yore  face." 

"  My  ear,"  corrected  Tom  huffily,  cautiously  fingering 
the  organ  in  question.  "  It  dropped  on  my  ear,  yuh 
butter-fingered  hay-maker!  It  might  'a'  put  out  my  eye 
if  I'd  been  a-layin'  like  I  do  usual.  Why  didn't  yuh 
strike  a  match  if  yuh  wanted  to  find  out  the  time?  " 

"  I  didn't  wanna  wake  yuh  up,"  explained  Red.  "  I 
knowed  yuh  wouldn't  wanna  be  waked  up,  so  I  tried  to 
take  the  clock  over  to  the  window  where  they  was  some 
light.  Y'oughtn't  to  keep  the  thing  on  a  shelf  right  over 
yore  bed.  No  place  for  a  clock  nohow.  Next  time  yuh 


The   Dark   Places  109 

might  get  damaged  instead  o'  just  batted  on  the  ear. 
Lordy,  what  a  time  yuh  make  for  just  a  ear." 

"Oh,  is  that  so?"  snapped  Tom,  while  his  brother 
struck  a  match  and  held  it  in  front  of  the  clock's  face. 
"  Yuh  talk  like  I  got  several  ears  an'  could  easy  afford  to 
have  one  of  'em  hammered  flat  any  time  you  feel  like  it. 
Well,  I  can't  an'  I  won't,  an'  you  do  any  more  such  fool 
tricks  an'  I'll  damage  you.  I  always  could  lick  yuh,  an'  I 
still  can,  you  bet.  What  yuh  wanna  know  the  time  for  ? 
You  ain't  gotta  work  to-day." 

"  I  got  a  engagement,  an'  you  can't  lick  me  an'  never 
could,  an'  —  " 

"  Nemmine  about  that.  What's  yore  engagement  ? 
What  kind  o'  devilment  are  y'up  to  now  ?  " 

"  You  know  as  well  as  I  do.  I  told  Spunk  Lenn  he'd 
have  to  be  out  o'  town  this  mornin'  an'  I  forgot  whether  I 
gave  him  till  four,  five  or  six ;  so  I'm  gonna  play  safe  an' 
say  it's  four.  Clock  says  three  forty-eight,  so  I'll  just 
be  pullin'  on  my  boots  an'  leavin'  yuh.  Yuh  might's  well 
have  breakfast  ready  for  me  when  I  get  back." 

"  Who  was  yore  last  year's  nigger?  "  demanded  Tom, 
whose  ear  still  tingled.  "If  yo're  gonna  go  out  lookin' 
for  Lenn,  I  gotta  go  along,  an'  you  know  it.  Lenn  has 
other  friends  besides  Pickles,  Durkin  an'  Cox.  Yo're 
too  venturesome,  likewise  yo're  a  idjit,  a  plumb  idjit. 
The  idea  of  gettin'  up  at  four  in  the  mornin'  instead  o' 
givin'  Lenn  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  an'  waitin'  till  six 
like  a  Christian  an'  then  goin'  out  an'  havin'  yore  li'l  riot ! 
Are  you  figurin'  on  haulin'  Spunk  out  o'  bed  ?  " 

"  If  I  gotta,"  replied  Red,  busy  with  his  boots.  "  But 
you  needn't  put  yoreself  to  no  trouble,  Tom,"  he  contin 
ued  sarcastically.  "  I  wouldn't  want  yuh  to  bother  about 
me  for  a  whole  lot.  I  ain't  no  child,  an'  I  don't  need  no 
guardian." 

"  What  you  need  is  a  nurse,"  was  the  sharp  return. 
"  Shut  up  now,  I  guess  you  got  nothin'  to  do  with  it.  If 


1 1  o  Lynch   Lawyers 

I  wanna  get  in  this,  I  guess  I  got  a  right  to.  I  was  in  it 
yesterday,  an'  you  didn't  have  no  objections.  Now  yuh 
wanna  glom  all  the  fun  yoreself.  We'll  see  about  that, 
we  will.  Where's  my  belt?  I'll  bet  you  moved  it  or 
somethin'.  Why  can't  yuh  leave  things  alone?  Oh, 
here  she  is." 

"  Shore,  right  where  yuh  hung  it  on  the  back  o'  the 
chair.  Y'old  sputter-box,  if  yuh  didn't  have  somethin' 
to  squall  round  about,  yuh  wouldn't  be  happy.  What  do 
yuh  do  when  I  ain't  here  ?  " 

Tom  countered  in  kind,  and  they  left  the  shack  still 
engaged  in  heated  argument. 

It  was  a  minute  past  the  hour  and  broad  in  the  light  of 
the  coming  day  when  Red  Kane  rapped  on  the  door  of  the 
one-room  log-house  behind  the  dance-hall  where  Spunk 
Lenn  lived  with  a  man  named  Murphy,  or  did  live  rather, 
for  the  man  named  Murphy,  on  getting  out  of  bed  and 
coming  to  the  door,  informed  them  with  much  bitterness 
that  Spunk  Lenn  had  departed  at  midnight. 

"  He  pulled  his  freight  owin'  me  money,"  complained 
the  ex-roommate.  "  Twenty-eight  dollars  six-bits  he 
borrowed  last  month,  an'  this  ain't  all  neither.  They  was 
a  bottle  of  whisky  nearly  half  full  under  my  bed,  an'  he 
took  that.  I  ain't  missed  nothin'  else  so  far,  but  I  guess 
that  ain't  Spunk's  fault.  Likely  he  didn't  have  time  to 
do  the  job  complete.  An'  I  thought  he  was  a  friend  o' 
mine !  I  hope  I  cut  his  trail  sometime.  Runnin'  off  with 
my  money  an'  my  whisky  too,  the  bushwhacker !  " 

Leaving  the  man  named  Murphy  to  the  memory  of  his 
wrongs,  they  returned  to  the  shack  and  had  breakfast. 
Which  meal  disposed  of,  Tom  improved  the  shining  hour 
by  overhauling  his  team  harness. 

"  Coin'  south  next  week,"  said  he,  "  an'  I  don't  aim  to 
have  nothin'  bust  on  the  trip.  Gotta  get  new  tugs,  worse 
luck.  The  harness  makers  don't  care  what  kind  o' 
leather  they  use  no  more." 


The   Dark   Places  in 

"  Yeah,"  yawned  the  uninterested  Red.  "  I  wish  I 
had  somethin'  to  do.  I  don't  wanna  watch  Piney  all  day. 
I  don't  feel  like  it." 

"  Go  an'  get  the  other  harness  punch  then,  an'  help  me. 
I'll  give  yuh  somethin'  to  do." 

"  Naw,  I  don't  mean  work.  I  don't  feel  like  workin' 
to-day.  I  feel  a  heap  lazy-like.  I  don't  feel  good  neither. 
I  got  a  misery  in  my  stomach.  Maybe  I'm  gonna  be 
sick,  Tom.  Be  reasonable.  I  gotta  look  after  my  health, 
don't  I?" 

"  Too  bad  about  yuh.  Shore  is.  You  didn't  have  no 
misery  when  yuh  hauled  me  out  o'  bed  in  the  middle  o' 
the  night.  No,  yuh  didn't.  But  now  yo're  too  delicate 
to  work.  Yuh  poor  feller.  I'm  a-grievin'  for  yuh,  I 
am.  I'm  mighty  sorry  I  ain't  got  a  glass  case  handy  for 
yuh  to  crawl  into  an'  keep  out  o'  drafts.  Maybe  yuh'd 
better  go  in  an'  lay  down.  Couldn't  I  hold  yore  hand  or 
somethin'  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Red,  his  face  lighting  up  suddenly.  "  I 
dunno  as  I  care  about  yuh  holdin'  my  paw,  but  what  yuh 
say  about  layin'  down  sounds  sort  o'  good.  Maybe  I'd 
better  do  it.  I  don't  wanna  be  sick  here  on  yore  hands. 
Lordy,  no." 

Tom  grunted  with  scorn  as  Red  retreated  hurriedly  in 
to  the  shack.  Ten  minutes  later  he  peered  through  the 
window  and  discovered  his  brother  shaving  himself.  Tom 
immediately  dropped  the  back-strap  he  was  examining 
and  scuffled  into  the  house. 

"My  razor!"  he  lamented.  "Yo're  usin'  my  razor, 
an'  I  just  spent  a  solid  hour  day  before  yesterday  honin' 
her  up  good  for  Sunday  mornin' !  " 

"  I'm  shore  obliged  to  yuh,"  Red  assured  him  rapidly, 
fending  him  off  with  the  shaving-brush.  "  It's  fine  an' 
sharp.  You  done  a  good  job." 

"  An'  I  got  it  to  do  all  over  again  now.  What  yuh 
wanna  shave  for  in  the  middle  of  the  week,  anyhow?  " 


ii2  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  Because  I  feel  like  it.  Think  I  wanna  run  round 
lookin'  like  a  porkypine  alia  time?  Well,  I  don't.  I 
ain't  like  you.  I  got  respect  for  my  personal  appearance, 
I  have.  You  lemme  alone  so's  I  can  finish  up,  an'  I'll 
give  yuh  back  yore  pretty  li'l  razor  so's  yuh  can  enjoy 
yoreself  honin'  her  up  again.  Go  'way  now.  Go  sit 
down,  for  Gawd's  sake.  You  make  me  nervous  hoppin' 
around  thataway." 

"  I'll  make  you  nervous,"  yapped  the  irritated  Tom. 
"  You  know  I  don't  allow  nobody  to  use  that  razor.  I 
might  'a'  guessed  you'd  do  somethin'  like  this  if  I  wasn't 
here  to  watch  yuh.  I'll  watch  yuh  now,  you  can  gamble 
on  that.  I'll  set  right  here  on  this  table  till  you  get 
through  an'  out,  that's  what  I'll  do.  Where's  my  mak- 
in's?  I  left  'em  right  here  on  the  shelf,  I  know  I  did. 
You've  took  'em.  Where  are  they?  " 

"  I  had  to,"  explained  Red,  trying  to  keep  one  eye  on 
his  exasperated  relative  and  the  other  on  the  tiny  mirror. 
"  My  bag  was  nearly  empty.  But  you  stop  bellerin',  an' 
I'll  lend  yuh  some  when  I  get  through." 

"  You'll  lend  me  some  o'  my  own  tobacco,  will  yuh? 
That's  good.  That's  right  down  generous  of  you,  that 
is.  But  I  guess  I  needn't  wait  till  after  yo're  done 
shavin',  not  when  you've  kindly  left  one  end  o'  the  draw 
string  stickin'  out  of  yore  vest  pocket  an'  the  vest  hangin' 
on  the  wall  in  plain  sight." 

Tom  gave  a  triumphant  jerk  on  the  draw-string,  pulled 
out  the  bag  and  tugged  it  open. 

"  Aw !  "  he  exclaimed  when  he  had  looked  within. 

"Yeah,"  Red  tranquilly  observed.  "I  thought  li'l 
Brighteyes  would  see  the  draw-string  a-stickin'  out.  So 
I  rilled  the  bag  with  bits  o'  paper.  The  tobacco's  in  my 
other  bag,  an'  that's  where  you  won't  find  it  in  a  hurry. 
Don't  throw  that  water!  They's  a  cigar  in  the  inside 
pocket  of  the  vest.  Smoke  that  an'  be  happy.  There,  see 
what  yuh  made  me  do  —  cut  myself !  " 


The   Dark   Places  113 

"  Serve  yuh  right,"  Tom  told  him,  fishing  for  the  cigar. 
"  Bet  she's  all  squashed.  Naw,  she  ain't,  for  a  wonder. 
Good  thing  for  you  she  ain't,  too,  or  I'd  'a'  shore  soused 
yuh  good  an'  plenty.  Oughta  done  it  anyway.  Maybe  I 
will  yet.  Yeah,  I  know  yuh'd  try  for  to  lick  me,  but  doin' 
it  is  somethin'  else  again.  Go'n,  go'n.  Twice  over  yore 
chin  now,  an'  call  it  a  day." 

Red  Kane  shrugged  a  contemptuous  shoulder  and  pro 
ceeded  with  his  shaving.  The  operation  completed  to  his 
contentment,  he  pulled  off  his  shirt  and  hung  it  up. 

' '  What  yuh  peelin'  yore  shirt  for?"  asked  Tom,  re 
garding  him  curiously.  "  You  ain't  gonna  change  it,  are 
yuh?" 

"Shore,  why  not?"  returned  Red  opening  a  news 
paper-wrapped  bundle  and  pulling  therefrom  a  new  shirt 
he  had  purchased  of  Mike  Flynn.  "  I  ain't  proud.  I 
change  my  shirt  now  an'  then." 

"  Yo're  gettin'  reckless  an'  -  Is  that  it?  Is  that  the 
shirt  you  bought  at  Mike's?  Purple  hoss-shoes  on  gray 
topped  by  yore  red  hair  is  shore  a  ferocious  combination. 
A  house  afire  wouldn't  be  deuce  high  alongside  o'  you. 
Nawsir.  You  ain't  gonna  wear  that  bright  green  hand 
kerchief  too,  are  yuh?  An'  them  cuffs?  I  thought  yuh 
done  said  it  an'  the  cuffs  was  for  Tim  Page,  an'  yuh 
didn't  wanna  get  'em  dirty  ?  " 

"  Shore  they're  for  Tim,  just  like  I  said,  but  I'm  gonna 
sort  o'  christen  'em  for  him  first.  He  won't  mind." 

"  Of  course  he  won't.  He'll  spit  in  yore  eye  an' 
drownd  yuh,  that's  all  he'll  do.  I  know  now  what  yo're 
gonna  do.  I  knowed  it  all  along,  you  bet.  Yo're  goin' 
out  to  Sweetwater  Mountain  this  mornin',  that's  where 
yo're  goin'." 

"  I  might  happen  along  that  way,"  admitted  Red. 
"  Yuh  see,  Tom,  I  got  business  over  round  Sweetwater 
anyhow,  an'  I  wouldn't  want  for  to  go  by  an'  not  say 
'Howdy.'  Why,  Tom,  maybe  the  old  gent,  her  father, 


ii4  Lynch   Lawyers 


maybe  he's  worse.  Maybe  she  needs  help.  An'  her  there 
all  alone  too.  Ain't  you  got  no  heart  ?  " 

"  Plenty,"  replied  Tom,  unmoved  by  the  harrowing 
picture  as  detailed  by  his  brother,  "  but  I  guess  she'd  be 
able  to  shove  along  without  yore  help,  seein'  she's  been 
a-doin'  it  for  a  few  years  more  or  less.  But  go  ahead. 
Run  hell-bent  into  yore  bad  luck  an'  shake  hands  with  it 
for  all  I  care.  I  wouldn't  stop  yuh  for  a  lot.  Nawsir, 
not  me.  Fly  at  it,  cowboy,  fly  at  it.  Only  don't  say  I 
never  warned  yuh." 

"  I  shore  won't.  How  do  I  look  with  the  green  hand 
kerchief?" 

"  Like  the  wrath  o'  Gawd.  I'm  tellin'  yuh,  Red,  blind 
fold  the  hoss  yo're  gonna  ride,  or  yuh'll  never  get  the 
saddle  on." 

Red,  riding  out  of  Farewell,  knew  that  he  was  diso 
beying  orders,  but  he  salved  his  conscience  by  telling  him 
self  that  Piney  was  getting  along  all  right.  Of  course  he 
was.  What  was  the  use  of  sitting  round  like  a  bump  on 
a  log?  Obviously  there  was  no  use.  Quite  so. 

When  he  sighted  the  nester's  ranch-house,  he  rode 
warily,  his  eyes  turning  from  side  to  side.  He  did  not 
expect  a  too  hostile  reception,  but  with  a  sudden  lady 
like  Miss  Lorimer  one  could  not  be  too  careful. 

No  human  being  was  visible  in  the  vicinity.  Below  a 
smokeless  chimney  the  kitchen  door  sagged  open  on  its 
recently  mended  hinges.  Beyond  the  spring  he  saw  the 
Lorimer  horses  grazing. 

He  dismounted  in  front  of  the  kitchen,  dropped  the 
reins  over  his  horse's  head  and  approached  the  door. 

"  Hello,"  he  called,  halting  at  the  step. 

"Hello.  Who's  there?"  It  was  the  weak  voice  of 
Lorimer  speaking  from  the  inner  room. 

"  It's  me,  Red  Kane,"  replied  the  puncher,  entering  on 
the  word  and  walking  through  the  kitchen  into  the  room 
where  the  wounded  man  lay  on  his  springless  bunk. 


The   Dark   Places  115 

It  was  hot  in  the  sick-room,  hotter  than  it  was  out 
doors,  although  all  the  windows  were  open  wide.  The 
bandaged  nester,  covered  simply  by  a  thin  sheet,  stared 
up  at  Red  Kane  with  fever-bright  eyes. 

"  I  seen  yuh  before,"  he  said,  low-voiced,  his  words 
slurring  and  sliding  together.  "  You  was  in  that  store 
in  Farewell,  an'  yuh  was  here  when  them  fellers  tried  to 
make  out  I  was  a  road  agent.  I  remember  yuh.  Si' 
down." 

"How  do  yuh  feel?"  asked  Red  cheerily.  "Wanna 
drink  or  somethin'  ?  " 

"  My  daughter  left  a  pail  an'  dipper  on  that  chair  be 
fore  she  went  fishin',  an',  o'  course,  clumsy-like,  I  had  to 
jerk  it  down  off  the  chair,  an'  it  rolled  under  the  bunk. 
I  would  be  obliged  for  a  drink.  Kind  o'  thirsty  weather, 
ain't  it?" 

"  Yeah,"  mumbled  Red,  on  his  hands  and  knees  and 
half  under  the  bunk.  "  I'll  have  yuh  forgettin'  the 
weather  in  no  time." 

He  scrambled  to  his  feet  and  hurried  out  to  the  spring. 
He  returned  with  a  full  and  slopping  pail,  set  it  on  the 
chair  and  dipped  in  the  dipper.  With  a  touch  as  gentle 
as  a  woman's  he  slipped  a  hand  beneath  the  nester's  head, 
raised  it  from  the  pillow  and  held  the  dipper  to  the  dry 
lips. 

Lorimer  drank  in  great  noisy  gulps.  Three  brimming 
dipperfuls  were  required  before  his  thirst  was  quenched. 
After  the  dipper  had  been  sunk  in  the  pail  for  the 
fourth  time,  he  lay  back  on  the  pillow  with  a  long  sigh 
of  relief. 

"  Naw,  no  more,"  he  said  in  reply  to  Red's  question. 
"  Shore  feels  fine,  that  does.  I  dunno  when  I  wanted  a 
drink  so  bad." 

Red  espied  a  crumpled  towel  beside  the  bunk.  He 
picked  it  up.  It  was  damp. 

"  My  daughter  wet  that  an'  put  it  on  my  head,"  ex- 


1 1 6  Lynch   Lawyers 

plained  Lorimer.  "  She  said  it  was  good  for  the  fever, 
but  it  fell  off  an'  I  couldn't  reach  it." 

Red  poured  cold  water  over  the  towel,  wrung  it  partly 
out  and  then  laid  the  cool  and  soppy  cloth  across  the  burn 
ing  forehead.  The  wounded  man  smiled  haggardly. 

"  That's  great,"  he  muttered.  "  Feels  almost  as  good 
outside  as  it  does  inside." 

Lorimer  ceased  speaking  and  closed  his  eyes.  Think 
ing  that  the  wounded  man  wished  to  sleep  Red  went  out 
side  for  a  short  smoke.  When  he  returned,  Lorimer  was 
picking  at  the  sheet  and  muttering  to  himself.  The  wet 
towel  had  slipped  from  his  forehead  and  hung  down  over 
the  side  of  the  bunk.  Red  dampened  the  towel  and  re 
adjusted  it.  Lorimer  moved  his  head  wearily  from  side 
to  side.  He  ceased  not  to  mutter  and  pick  at  the  sheet. 
By  and  by  he  spoke  more  clearly.  Here  and  there  Red 
caught  words,  phrases,  parts  of  sentences. 

"  The  money,"  came  the  words,  followed  by  a  numble. 
Then :  "  'Course  I  took  it  m-m-m-m-m  do  it  again  m-m-m- 

m-m-m  didn'  have  no  right  to  it  all  m-m-m-m-m-m 

thieves  m-m-m-m-m  rob  m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m  rob  my 
daughter  m-m-m-m-Dot  m-m-m-m-m-need'n'  argufy  m- 
m-m-m  I  know  who's  right!  Money's  mine!  Mine,  by 

!  I  tell  yuh  it's  mine !  I  took  it !  I  tell  you  I  had  a 

right  to !  It's  mine !  Mine !  " 

Lorimer  was  sitting  bolt  upright  in  the  bunk.  He  was 
pointing  his  finger  at  the  horrified  Red  and  screaming  out 
his  words.  The  puncher  tried  to  quiet  him,  to  push  him 
down  on  the  pillow.  But  the  nester  fought  him  off  and, 
shrieking,  raved  on  about  his  rights  and  his  money. 

Red,  devoutly  thankful  that  no  one  was  within  earshot, 
did  not  give  up  striving  to  calm  the  nester.  He  did  his 
earnest  best,  but  he  might  as  well  have  poured  oil  on  a 
fire.  Lorimer  roared  and  bellowed  and  beat  the  sides  of 
the  bunk  with  his  fists. 

"  Them  ribs  o'  his  must  be  busted  over  again  by  this 


The   Dark   Places  117 

time,"  the  perspiring  puncher  told  himself,  "  so  I  guess  I 
just  gotta  be  rough  an'  get  done  with  it." 

Taking  care  not  to  squeeze  the  nester's  torn  shoulder 
and  side,  Red,  exerting  all  his  strength,  forced  the  nester 
down  on  the  mattress  and  held  him  there.  Lorimer  per 
force  lay  quietly,  but  he  could  still  talk  and  he  did. 

"  I  got  that  money,"  he  kept  shrieking  eternally.  "  I 
got  that  money,  an'  it's  mine !  I'd  'a'  killed  him,  if  I'd  had 
to!  But  I  didn't  kill  him!  I  dunno  who  did!  They 
said  I  did!  But  I  didn't!" 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  Sweetwater  Mountain  was  a 
lonely  spot  Red's  warm  perspiration  was  succeeded  by 
the  cold  sweat  of  apprehension.  Suppose  some  one 
should  ride  by.  Involuntarily  he  shivered  and  quite  with 
out  intention  glanced  out  of  the  window.  What  he  saw  in 
the  distance  was  sufficiently  unnerving.  The  fact  had  been 
father  to  the  thought,  apparently.  Topping  a  rise  two 
miles  away  was  a  band  of  horsemen.  They  were  riding 
directly  toward  the  ranch-house,  and  here  was  Lorimer 
yelling  to  high  heaven  what  he  had  done  in  a  certain  affair 
wherein  figured  a  sum  of  money.  Once  let  the  riders 
hear  a  single  connected  sentence  and  the  nester  would  be 
convicted  out  of  his  own  mouth.  Nothing  could  save 
him. 

Red  clapped  his  hand  over  Lorimer's  mouth  and  was 
promptly  bitten.  The  bold  Red  jerked  his  hand  away 
and,  struck  by  a  sudden  idea,  darted  outside  to  his  horse. 
All  in  a  stew  of  haste,  he  unstrapped  his  rope  and  rushed 
back  with  it.  Working  with  the  speed  of  one  engaged 
in  contest  for  a  prize,  he  tied  down  the  delirious  Lorimer 
in  his  bunk  and  gagged  him  with  the  wet  towel.  When 
Red  was  through  with  him,  Lorimer  could  breathe  fairly 
well  and  could  wiggle  his  toes.  Otherwise  he  had  no 
freedom  of  action  whatever. 

Red  looked  through  the  window.  The  oncoming  rid 
ers  had  halved  the  distance  between  the  rise  and  the  ranch- 


1 1  8  Lynch   Lawyers 

house.  The  puncher,  at  gaze,  heard  a  slight  noise  be 
hind  him.  He  whirled  about  and  saw  that  Miss  Lorimer 
had  returned. 

He  saw  too  that  she  was  cocking  a  Winchester,  and  he 
read  a  purpose  in  her  black  eyes.  There  was  no  time  to 
explain  or  parley.  He  sprang  straight  at  her  and  dashed 
aside  the  rifle  barrel. 

The  Winchester  went  off  with  a  flash  and  a  roar.  In 
that  confined  space  the  sound  was  terrific.  Half  deafened 
and  coughing  in  the  acrid  smoke,  Red  Kane  wrenched 
the  Winchester  from  the  hands  of  Dot  Lorimer,  flung 
the  weapon  into  a  corner  and  seized  the  lady's  hands 
barely  in  time  to  prevent  her  from  dragging  out  a  skin- 
ning-knife. 

She  kicked  and  clawed  like  a  wild  thing  entrapped,  but 
he  drew  one  of  her  arms  behind  her  back  in  a  hammer- 
lock,  twisted  her  body  round  and,  holding  her  other  wrist, 
pressed  his  hard  forearm  against  her  throat. 

"  Yuh  li'l  fool !  "  he  whispered  fiercely  into  her  indig 
nant  ear,  she  continuing  to  struggle,  small  good  though 
it  did  her.  "  Yuh  li'l  fool !  Yore  pa  was  a-raisin'  the 
roof  at  full  shout  till  you  could  hear  him  a  mile  —  all 
about  some  money  he  took  an'  how  he'd  do  it  again  an' 
kill  anybody  tryin'  to  stop  him!  That's  why  I  tied  him 
down  an'  gagged  him !  Don't  yuh  see  that  posse  comin' 
out  yonder?  How  long  do  yuh  guess  yore  pa'd  last  if 
they  heard  him  a-talkin'  like  that?  I'm  yore  friend,  I 
tell  yuh.  If  you  wasn't  a  plumb  born  fool,  yuh'd  see  it. 
Get  a-hold  o'  yoreself  an'  have  sense,  will  yuh  ?  " 

Here  he  shook  her  with  such  violence  that  her  teeth 
rattled.  Then  he  sat  her  down  hard  on  a  chair. 

"  Do  yuh  understand?  "  he  asked,  shaking  her  again. 

She  stared  up  at  him,  her  dark  eyes  bright  with  rage. 
The  hoof -patter  swelled  to  a  thuttering  drum.  The 
horsemen  were  very  near.  The  rage  in  her  eyes  died. 
She  gazed  anxiously  through  the  window. 


The   Dark   Places  119 

"  I  understand,"  she  whispered.  "I  —  Oh,  they're  al 
most  here." 

Red  Kane  loosed  his  hold  upon  her  at  once,  ran  into  the 
kitchen  and,  halting  in  the  doorway,  fell  into  an  easy,  hip- 
shot,  quite-at-home  posture.  He  folded  his  arms,  ca 
ressed  his  chin  with  steady  fingers  and  regarded  the  new 
comers  calmly. 

"  Lanpher  an'  the  88,"  he  muttered,  "  an'  lookin'  a 
heap  earnest  too." 

The  bunched  outfit  split  like  a  bursting  shell  in  front  of 
the  ranch-house.  While  some  rode  to  secure  the  sides 
and  rear  of  the  building,  the  others,  Lanpher  in  the  van, 
deployed  and  halted  in  front  of  the  doorway  blocked  by 
Red  Kane's  lanky-limbed  frame. 

The  drink  had  not  yet  died  in  Lanpher.  When  it  did, 
he  would  go  to  pieces  and  see  things  where  nothing  was. 
But  now  he  was  brave  as  several  lions.  He  gazed  upon 
Red  Kane  with  a  filmy,  bloodshot  eye.  A  sneer  lifted  his 
upper  lip  till  the  white  teeth  showed  beneath.  The  ex 
pressions  of  the  men  at  his  back  were  heavily  determined. 
Red  smiled  slowly. 

"  Howdy,  boys,"  was  his  greeting.  "  What  brings  all 
yore  happy  Sunday  faces  so  far  from  home?  An'  yore 
manager  too.  Ain't  yuh  afraid  the  ranch  will  run  away 
while  yo're  gone,  Lanpher?  " 

"  Where's  that  nester?  "  demanded  Lanpher. 

Red  Kane's  cheerful  grin  leaped  to  meet  the  other's 
ominous  grimness.  He  leaned  comfortably  against  the 
door  jamb  and  pushed  back  his  hat. 

"  The  nester?"  he  queried  in  a  lazy  drawl.  "Oh, 
yeah,  shore,  the  nester.  You  mean  Mr.  Lorimer.  It's 
shore  good  o'  yuh  to  come  all  this  way  to  see  him.  He'll 
appreciate  it  —  when  I  tell  him." 

"  Yuh  needn't  bother,"  said  Lanpher.  "  We'll  tell  him. 
We  want  this  nester  for  rustlin'  that  money  out  o'  the 
express  box,  an'  we're  gonna  have  him.  You  slide  out  o' 


120  Lynch   Lawyers 

that  doorway.  I'm  gonna  go  in  that  house,  an'  you  nor 
no  other  man  is  gonna  stop  me." 

Lanpher  dismounted  and  started  toward  the  door.  Rod 
Rockwell,  Slim  Mack  and  a  puncher  named  Moresby  fol 
lowed  their  manager's  example.  Tom  Bowling  remained 
in  the  saddle.  Red  Kane  was  a  friend  of  his,  and  Tom 
knew  that  Red  was  careless  of  consequences  when  crossed. 
Let  Lanpher  do  the  crossing.  Besides,  Tom  Bowling 
was  beginning  to  have  doubts  concerning  the  nester's 
guilt.  Lanpher  insisted  that  he  had  the  necessary  proof, 
but  of  honest-to-God  specific  evidence  he  had  not  men 
tioned  a  single  detailed  shred.  Tom  Bowling  sagged 
back  against  the  cantle  and  folded  his  hands  on  top  of  the 
saddle-horn. 

As  Lanpher  and  his  three  men  approached  the  door, 
Red  Kane  did  not  move.  In  his  heart  Red  expected  to 
die  violently  within  two  minutes.  To  be  precise,  he  al 
lowed  himself  some  sixty  seconds  of  life.  He  was  one 
individual.  The  88  numbered  a  full  score  of  fairly  will 
ing  fighting-men.  The  present  moment  was  far  differ 
ent  from  that  other  when  Carlson  and  the  crowd  from 
Farewell  had  arrived  with  intent  to  lynch.  Then  Kan 
sas  Casey  had  been  on  the  ground.  Kansas  was  a  hard 
and  willing  fighter.  And  behind  Kansas  loomed  the 
Majesty  of  the  Law.  Ostensibly  it  had  been  the  girl 
and  what  she  said  at  the  critical  split  second  that  had 
fended  off  disaster,  but  in  reality  it  had  been  Kansas  and 
his  star.  Legend  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  men 
do  not  relish  killing  a  deputy  sheriff.  It  spells  trouble 
in  letters  of  the  largest  size. 

Yet  no  hint  of  Red's  grisly  expectations  appeared  in 
his  expression.  He  continued  to  smile  pleasantly  and 
look  at  Lanpher  with  serene,  half-closed  eyes.  Tom 
Bowling,  observant  person  that  he  was,  perceived  that 
Red,  while  he  still  stood  with  folded  arms,  had  slightly 
shifted  the  position  of  those  arms.  Red's  left  hand  was 


The   Dark   Places  121 

partly  hidden  by  an  outstanding  fold  of  his  right  sleeve. 
Tom  was  glad  that  he  had  chosen  to  play  a  waiting  part. 

"  Not  another  step !  "  suddenly  rapped  out  Red,  flicking 
up  his  left  hand. 

Lanpher  and  his  three  adherents  stared  into  the  twin 
barrels  of  Red's  derringer.  But  Lanpher  was  beyond  be 
ing  daunted  by  even  a  .50  caliber  firearm.  A  spasm  con 
torted  his  features,  and  his  right  hand  flashed  downward. 

Red  Kane  immediately  shot  him  through  the  neck  and 
right  arm,  and,  firing  through  the  bottom  of  his  holster, 
distributed  five  bullets  among  Slim  Mack,  Rod  Rockwell 
and  Moresby.  But  these  three  had  been  hardly  slower 
than  Red  in  getting  into  action. 

Red  Kane,  hit  in  four  places,  felt  as  if  a  veil  of  black 
mist  were  descending  upon  him.  He  put  up  a  hand 
to  brush  away  the  mist.  But  the  mist  was  thick  and 
sticky,  and  in  the  distance  red  lightnings  flashed  and 
thunder  rolled.  It  was  very  curious.  The  sky  had  been 
clear  a  moment  ago.  How  odd  that  there  should  be  a 
thunderstorm.  He  mustn't  get  his  new  shirt  or  Tim 
Page's  handkerchief  wet.  The  colors  might  run.  He 
should  have  brought  his  brother's  slicker. 

And  now  a  high  wind  began  to  blow,  and  the  dark  mist 
swirled  and  whirled  in  seething  eddies  above  the  face  of 
great  waters  —  great  gray  waters  that  stretched  away 
and  away  as  the  mist  lifted  to  a  dim  and  curiously  en 
grailed  horizon.  The  mist  cleared  off  completely,  and 
the  strange  horizon  slid  nearer,  and  the  points  of  the  en 
grailing  became  trees,  the  chestnut-leaved  white-oak  of 
the  South. 

The  waters  turned  from  gray  to  blue,  a  blue  shot  with 
sparkles  that  came  and  went  in  the  play  of  the  sunshine 
on  the  ripples. 

Hear  that  regular  thump  and  beat  of  mighty  paddles. 
The  Star  of  the  West  was  coming  round  a  bend.  There 
were  her  tall  twin  stacks,  with  billowy  smoke  a-trailing, 


122  Lynch   Lawyers 

lifting  over  the  tree-tops.  See  the  white  bonnet  of  steam 
from  her  whistle.  But  you  wouldn't  hear  the  long-drawn 
bellow  for  several  seconds  after  the  steam  vanished. 
Hear  it  now.  Sounds  like  a  bull  in  a  rage,  doesn't  it? 
The  General  Johnstone  was  the  only  other  steamer  on  the 
river  that  had  a  deeper,  louder  whistle  than  the  Star  of 
the  West.  But  then  the  former  was  a  New  Orleans 
packet,  while  the  Star  of  the  West  hailed  from  Natchez- 
under-the-Hill. 

There  was  a  series  of  creaks  and  small  crashes  at  Red's 
left.  He  turned  his  head.  A  large  and  energetic  razor- 
back  was  rooting  its  way  beneath  the  palings  enclosing 
Maje  Throstlewit's  yard.  As  he  looked,  the  lean  hog 
squinched  through  and,  a  wisp  of  straw  caught  in  a  ragged 
ear,  rushed  grunting  into  Maje's  patch  of  corn.  From 
the  house  issued  Maje's  wife,  brandishing  a  broom.  At 
her  heels  ran  Maje,  corncob  short  held  between  his  teeth 
and  sticking  right  under  his  nose  the  way  it  always  did. 
Some  day,  if  Maje  wasn't  careful,  he'd  swallow  the  stem. 

Red  laughed  to  see  the  pair  chase  the  hog  between  the 
cornstalks.  Maje  was  calling  the  hog  names.  His  wife 
was  panting.  Now  and  then  one  of  the  two  would  man 
age  to  whack  the  pig,  and  the  razorback,  amid  a  flurry  of 
squeals,  would  tear  off  at  a  tangent. 

Maje  Throstlewit  and  his  wife!  It  was  years  since 
he  had  seen  them.  Strange,  too,  that  he  should  see  them, 
for  he  had  heard  that  both  had  lost  their  lives  when  the 
Modoc's  boilers  burst  during  a  race  with  the  War  Eagle. 

The  Star  of  the  West  was  steaming  on  a  long  slant. 
She  was  swinging  her  gangplank.  She  was  coming  in. 
Hear  the  bells  and  the  mate  bawling  at  the  roustabouts. 
Pretty  extra  good  mate.  It  was  told  of  him  that  he  could 
swear  steadily  at  a  fair  rate  of  speed  for  twelve  minutes 
without  repeating  himself  once.  But  this  was  mere  hear 
say.  Red  didn't  know  whether  to  believe  it  or  not. 

Hello,  there  was  his  brother  Tom  coming  down  to  the 


The   Dark   Places  123 

landing.  He  was  barefooted,  his  hat  lacked  half  the 
brim,  and  one  suspender  secured  with  two  horseshoe  nails 
held  up  his  ragged  pantaloons.  Red  glanced  down  at  his 
own  trousers  and  discovered  they  were  even  more  ragged 
than  Tom's.  He  too  was  barelegged,  and  one  of  his  big 
toes  wore  a  dirty  bandage  made  fast  with  coarse  cotton 
thread. 

Tom  sat  down  at  his  side,  and  together  they  watched 
the  steamer  make  the  landing  and  the  passengers  come 
ashore.  There  was  whiskered  Colonel  Weeks  with  his 
fat  stomach  and  his  bunch  of  heavy  seals  hanging  from 
a  fob.  He  had  a  handsome  daughter,  Miss  Josephine. 
Yes,  there  she  was,  poke-bonnet  and  all,  holding  a  tiny 
parasol  over  her  head.  Waiting  to  welcome  her  father, 
the  pretty  dear.  And  Brother  Jonathan  Simms,  the  local 
evangelist,  with  his  high  hat  and  burning  eyes.  Brother 
Jonathan  turned  his  peculiar,  smoldering  gaze  full  upon 
Red.  The  eyes  grew  larger  and  larger,  glowing  a 
brighter  and  brighter  yellow,  till,  of  a  sudden,  Red  saw 
that  they  were  not  the  evangelist's  eyes  but  the  two  lamp- 
lit  kitchen  windows  of  his  own  home.  He  was  walking 
toward  them  through  the  warm  Arkansas  dusk.  The 
hellydids  and  the  crickets  were  busy  about  their  affairs 
in  the  wood  behind  the  house,  and  the  frogs  were  saying 
"  jug  o'  rum  "  as  hard  as  they  could  croak. 

He  went  into  the  kitchen  and  found  that  his  mother 
had  saved  supper  for  him  as  usual.  She  never  failed  him 
—  in  anything.  There  was  an  extra  piece  of  pie,  too. 
My,  how  good  the  corn-pone  was.  Mother's  corn-pone 
never  tasted  gritty  as  some  folks'  did.  The  cold  fried 
chicken  was  just  about  right.  He  gnawed  a  luscious 
drumstick  fife-fashion  and  squared  his  hard  young  el 
bows  on  the  table. 

He  laid  down  the  drumstick  and  grinned  to  think  what 
Tom  had  missed.  Where  was  Tom  anyway  ?  He  looked 
out  of  the  window  and  saw,  instead  of  Tom,  the  mid- 


124  Lynch   Lawyers 

summer  moon  high  above  the  black  wedge  of  the  Baptist 
Church  spire. 

How  distinctly  he  could  see  the  face  of  the  Man  in  the 
Moon.  The  Man  was  laughing  and  winking  a  great  and 
kindly  eye.  Subtly  the  features  altered.  How  much 
they  resembled  the  features  of  his  friend  Tom  Bowling, 
who  rode  for  the  88  ranch.  The  Man  in  the  Moon 
stopped  winking,  and  Red  saw  that  he  was  quite  close, 
in  the  room,  in  fact.  Why,  it  wasn't  the  Man  in  the  Moon 
at  all.  It  was  Tom  Bowling.  He  wasn't  two  feet  away. 
Red  could  touch  him  if  he  wanted  to.  He  tried  to  lift  an 
arm.  But  the  arm  wouldn't  lift.  What  was  the  matter 
with  his  arms?  He  couldn't  move  either  of  them.  He 
wanted  to  cry.  He  had  to  close  his  eyes  hard  and  hold 
them  shut  tightly  for  a  long  minute  in  order  to  keep  back 
the  tears.  When  he  opened  them  again,  the  face  of  Tom 
Bowling  had  disappeared  and  the  face  of  Bot  Lorimer 
had  taken  its  place.  There  was  not  much  snap  in  the 
black  eyes  now.  They  were  soft  and  tired-looking  and 
very,  very  tender.  A  sense  of  delicious  peace  pervaded 
Red's  whole  being. 

"  This  is  shore  heaven  at  last,"  he  muttered  low,  so 
low  that  she  had  to  bend  her  head  to  catch  the  words. 
"  This  is  shore  heaven,  an'  yo're  one  of  the  angels." 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

THE   STRANGER 

FOLLOWED  a  period  of  seven  days  during  which  Red 
lay  waking  little  and  sleeping  much,  days  through  which 
flitted  shadow  glimpses  of  Dot  Lorimer  and  Tom  Dow- 
ling.  At  times  he  would  be  given  queer-tasting  liquids 
to  drink.  At  times  his  head  was  bathed  in  cool  water. 

On  the  morning  of  the  eighth  day  Red  opened  his  eyes 
on  a  bright,  sharply  denned  world.  Directly  above  him 
were  the  heavy  logs  of  a  ranch-house  roof.  He  turned 
his  head  sidewise  and  saw  that  he  was  in  a  bunk  set 
against  one  end  of  a  small  room.  At  the  other  end  of 
the  room  was  an  open  doorway,  through  which  he 
glimpsed  the  vista  of  a  much  larger  room  opening  into 
the  kitchen.  He  knew  it  was  the  kitchen.  He  could  see 
the  stove.  But  the  view  through  the  doorway  interested 
him  not  at  all.  For,  beside  the  doorway  of  his  room, 
beneath  a  window,  was  a  heavy  homemade  table,  and  at 
the  table,  one  hand  clutching  a  piece  of  bread,  the  other 
holding  a  tin  cup,  sat  Dot  Lorimer. 

Manifestly  sleep  had  overtaken  the  lady.  Her  body 
swayed  gently  forward  and  back.  Her  head  was  nod 
ding.  In  through  the  window  streamed  the  sunbeams 
and  turned  the  dark  hair  into  a  helmet  of  black  and 
shining  metal.  It  speaks  well  for  Dot  Lorimer's  good 
looks  that,  despite  the  food,  despite  the  tin  cup,  despite 
the  head-nodding,  she  was  definitely  handsome.  Red 
sighed. 

At  the  slight  sound  the  girl  awoke  with  a  start,  dropped 
bread  and  cup  and  crossed  quickly  to  the  bed. 


126  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  How  do  you  feel  now  ?  "  she  asked,  laying  one  hand 
on  his  forehead. 

"  Out  o'  sight,"  he  replied,  mustering  up  a  smile. 

"  You  ought  to,"  she  said,  smiling  in  return.  "  Your 
fever's  all  gone,  although  you  had  a  great  deal  at  first.  I 
kept  it  down  with  hickory  ash  and  water  as  well  as  I 
could.  Guess  you've  slept  enough  so  I  shan't  give  you 
any  more  henbane.  What  you  need  now  is  a  tonic.  I 
wish  I  had  some  white-wood  bark,  but  I  haven't  a  bit; 
I'll  have  to  do  the  best  I  can  with  swamp  dogwood.  Lie 
quiet  now  while  I'm  in  the  kitchen.  After  a  while  I'll 
look  at  your  wounds  and  dress  them." 

"  Lordy !  "  murmured  Red,  his  eyes  following  her  re 
treating  figure  with  respect  and  admiration.  "  Hick 
ory  ash,  henbane,  swamp  dogwood!  Regular  doctor, 
she  is." 

Came  in  Tom  Bowling  from  the  kitchen  and  sat  down 
beside  the  bed. 

"  'Lo,  old-timer,"  grinned  Tom,  who  had  dark  cres 
cents  beneath  his  eyes  and  fine  lines  of  weariness  at  the 
corners  of  his  mouth.  "  How  you  feelum?  " 

11  Like  I  could  dance,"  said  Red.  "  Whatsa  matter 
with  me?  I  don't  seem  to  hurt  much  anywhere,  con- 
siderin'." 

'  Yo're  only  shot  in  four  places.  Outside  o'  that  they's 
nothin'  the  matter  with  you.  But  don't  yuh  worry  none. 
All  them  bullets  sifted  through.  Every  one  of  'em's  in 
the  kitchen  wall  right  now." 

"  Seems  like  I  do  remember  a  fraycas,"  admitted  Red, 
wrinkling  his  forehead. 

"  Yo're  improvin',"  Tom  said  dryly.  "  They  was  a 
short  riot. .  You  had  a  argument  with  Lanpher,  Slim 
Mack,  Rockwell  an'  Moresby.  You  drilled  Lanpher 
twice,  an'  I  did  hear  how  he  ain't  expected  to  live,  but 
I  guess  that  ain't  true  —  he's  too  mean  to  die,  that  feller. 
You  put  three  holes  in  Slim  Mack,  busted  one  of  his  ribs 


The   Stranger  127 

an'  a  arm  in  two  places.  Yessir,"  the  bloodthirsty  Mr. 
Bowling  continued  with  relish,  "  Slim  Mack's  almost  as 
bad  as  Lanpher.  Rockwell  an'  Moresby  got  off  easy. 
Rod  only  lost  the  upper  half  of  one  ear  an'  Moresby  went 
shy  his  right  thumb.  Tough  on  Moresby,  sort  o'.  He 
never  could  shoot  left-handed,  an',  if  he  can't  learn,  he'll 
be  plumb  afoot  with  a  six-gun." 

"  Where  did  I  get  it?  "  Red  queried  impatiently. 

"  Both  arms,  one  leg,  an'  yore  shoulder.  The  lead  cut 
an  artery  in  yore  leg,  too.  She  had  quite  a  time  with  that, 
Miss  Lorimer  did,  but  she  made  out  to  sew  it  up  with 
a  harness  needle  an'  thread." 

"  Yeah?     An'  I  never  knowed  it?     Yo're  crazy." 

"  I  ain't  crazy,  but  you  was  out  of  yore  head  alia  time. 
You  was  delirious  an'  senseless  an'  ravin'  an'  Gawd  knows 
what  all  for  twelve  days." 

"Twelve  days!" 

"  Twelve  whole  days  from  the  time  you  was  plugged 
till  yuh  got  sensible  again,  an'  I  dunno  as  yuh  was  so 
sensible  at  that." 

"  Twelve  days  since  I  was  shot,"  marveled  Red. 

"  Nineteen,"  corrected  Tom  Bowling.  "  She's  seven 
full  days  since  yuh  stopped  ravin'  an'  been  senseless. 
Add  twelve  an'  seven  an'  yuh  get  nineteen." 

But  Red's  brain  was  not  equal  to  problems  in  addition. 
Besides,  another  question  kept  bobbing  up  and  down  in 
his  mind. 

"Where  was  the  rest  o'  yore  outfit  alia  time?"  he 
asked.  "  Why  didn't  they  chime  in  an'  —  an'  —  What 
are  you  doin'  here,  anyhow  ?  "  Then,  before  Tom  could 
make  reply,  a  wave  of  remembrance  came  to  Red,  and  he 
cried  sharply :  "  Bid  they  —  was  he  —  did  they  get  him?" 

"  Him  ?  Who  ?  Oh,  you  mean  Ben  Lorimer.  Naw, 
they  didn't  get  him.  They  —  they  decided  not  to." 

"  They  did?    What  decided  'em?  " 

"Bamfino.     How's  that  sheet   feel,   Red?     Kind  o9 


128  Lynch    Lawyers 

ruffled  under  the  ol'  chin.  I'll  fix  her.  There,  that's  all 
right  now,  huh  ?  " 

"Why  don't  you  tell  him  who  stopped  them?"  in 
quired  from  the  doorway  the  quiet  voice  of  Miss  Lorimer. 
"  He  stopped  them,  Mr.  Kane.  They'd  have  killed  you 
where  you  lay  and  undoubtedly  would  have  hung  my 
father  if  Mr.  Bowling  hadn't  jumped  from  his  horse  and 
persuaded  them  not  to." 

"  Shucks,"  muttered  Mr.  Bowling.  "  Guess  I  better 
go  after  some  water." 

He  rose  and  fled  past  Miss  Lorimer  to  the  kitchen  and 
the  outer  air. 

"  Of  course  he's  modest  about  it,"  went  on  Miss  Lor 
imer.  "  He  would  be.  He's  that  kind.  But  I  turn  cold 
all  over  whenever  I  think  what  surely  would  have  hap 
pened  if  Mr.  Bowling  hadn't  been  here.  He  swore  he 
would  shoot  the  first  man  that  pulled  a  gun,  and  I  guess 
they  believed  him.  And  he's  been  here  ever  since  helpin' 
me." 

"  Tom's  a  right  good  feller,"  Red  told  her  warmly, 
«an'_  What?" 

She  had  moved  close  to  the  bunk  and  was  looking  down 
at  him.  The  fingers  of  her  capable  hands  were  twisting 
together  nervously. 

"  You  —  you  dud-did  more  than  any  one,"  she  stam 
mered.  "I  —  I  can't  thank  you.  Words  don't  count 
somehow." 

It  was  Red's  turn  to  be  uncomfortable. 

"  I  didn't  do  nothin',"  he  said,  his  face  and  neck  prick 
ling  hotly. 

"  You  fought  for  —  for  us,"  she  continued  unsteadily, 
"  when  you  had  no  reason  to  —  when  you  had  every  rea 
son  not  to.  And  —  and  I  thought  you  were  a  spy  when 
I  saw  my  father  bound  and  gagged,  and  I  was  goin'  to 
shoot  you.  Oh,  you're  just  wonderful !  " 

The  warm  prickling  invaded  his  spinal  column. 


The   Stranger  129 

"  Tha's  all  right,"  was  all  he  could  say.  "  Tha's  all 
right." 

"  I  wish  I  could  make  it  up  to  you.  I  can't  bear  to  see 
you  sufferin'  that  way  for  —  for  us." 

"  Lordy,  ma'am,  I  ain't  sufferin'.  Which  I  should  say 
not.  Sufferin',  huh!  Ain't  you  a-takin'  care  o'  me? 
An'  after  me  handlin'  you  so  rough  that  time.  I  shore 
had  to  do  it,  ma'am.  It  was  the  only  wagon-track  out. 
But  I  didn't  aim  to  be  a  bother  to  yuh  like  I  am  now,  an' 
you  with  yore  father  sick  an'  all.  How  is  he  feelin' 
now?" 

"  He's  all  right.  His  rib  couldn't  have  knitted  better. 
The  day  you  were  shot  was  his  last  bad  time.  He's  been 
improvin'  ever  since.  He'll  be  in  to  see  you  later  on. 
I  make  him  sit  out  by  the  spring  in  the  shade  as  much 
as  possible.  He's  there  now.  While  the  dogwood  bark's 
boilin',  I  guess  I'll  just  dress  your  wounds.  And  don't 
you  worry  about  being  a  bother.  Bother  indeed !  " 

In  a  very  workmanlike  fashion  she  took  off  the  band 
ages,  cleansed  the  wounds,  and  applied  a  substance  re 
sembling  blue  sand.  This,  she  informed  him,  was  a 
mixture  of  wild  indigo  root  and  common  brown  sugar 
pounded  to  powder. 

"  I  was  afraid  of  infection,"  was  her  explanation. 

It  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  he  heard  her.  For  embar 
rassment  was  consuming  him.  False  embarrassment,  to 
be  sure.  But  it  was  for  all  that  a  most  unpleasant  sen 
sation. 

"  I'm  awfully  sorry  it  hurts  so,"  she  said,  remarking  the 
beads  of  perspiration  on  his  forehead.  "  I'm  almost 
through." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  pain  of  the  dressing  was  endur 
able.  But  he  could  not  have  told  her  so  to  save  his  life. 
He  was  long  past  speech.  She  finished  rebandaging,  set 
tled  his  head  on  the  pillow  to  his  liking  and  hers,  and 
smiled  widely. 


130  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  You'll  do  till  to-morrow,"  said  she  and  withdrew  to 
the  kitchen. 

He  could  hear  a  pan  cover  clink  now  and  then.  He 
could  hear  her  humming  to  herself.  It  was  a  sprightly 
catch  and  a  merry.  She  began  to  whistle  the  air.  It 
went  even  better.  He  wondered  what  the  name  might 
be.  When  she  came  in  with  the  dogwood  infusion,  he 
asked  her. 

"  Like  the  tune?  "  said  she,  setting  the  cup  on  the  table. 
"  So  do  I.  It's  called  '  Chelsea  Reach  ',  and  it's  old  as 
Job's  turkey,  but  there's  somethin'  about  it  that  sets  the 
blood  to  spinnin'  and  the  heart  to  beatin'  faster.  I'll 
sing  you  a  song  if  you  like." 

He  said  he  would  like.  So,  standing  against  the  wall, 
without  a  trace  of  marring  shyness,  she  gave  him  "  John 
Peel  "  in  an  alto  as  clear  as  a  bell. 

"  That's  shore  a  real  song,"  he  said,  when  she  had 
sung  it  through.  "  Liked  to  get  up  early  in  the  mornin', 
didn't  he,  that  feller?  The  last  verse  is  sort  o'  sad-like. 
Sound's  if  Mr.  Peel  was  dead.  Is  he?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  he  is." 

"  That's  tough.  I'll  bet  I'd  'a'  enjoyed  knowin'  Mr. 
Peel.  I  had  a  dog  named  Bellman  myself  once  back  east 
in  Arkansas.  But  he  fit  a  bear  one  time,  an'  I  had  to 
bury  him.  I  wonder,  ma'am,  could  I  have  a  smoke?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  it  would  hurt  you.     I'll  roll  you  one." 

She  went  into  the  next  room  for  tobacco  and  a  paper. 
While  she  was  gone,  Red  saw  a  man  ride  past  the  window. 
The  horse  was  the  long-legged  gray  with  the  corn  coming 
in  his  near  fore  hoof,  and  the  man  was  the  wide-shoul 
dered  stranger  with  the  wide,  unsmiling  mouth.  The 
horseman  did  not  stop  at  the  house.  Doubtless  he  was 
going  to  the  spring. 

The  pad-pad  of  the  horse's  feet  ceased  abruptly.  Arose 
then  the  murmur  of  voices.  The  stranger  was  talking  to 
Lorimer.  Red  could  not  distinguish  more  than  a  word 


The   Stranger  131 


here  and  there.  He  did  not  try  to  eavesdrop.  But  there 
was  no  harm  in  listening,  especially  when  he  could  do  no 
otherwise. 

Miss  Lorimer  returned  slowly,  her  supple  fingers  busy 
with  the  fashioning  of  the  cigarette.  She  raised  the 
pencil-thick  roll  to  her  mouth,  gave  it  a  swift  lick  down 
along  with  the  tip  of  a  pink  tongue,  twisted  one  end  and 
stuck  the  other  between  Red's  lips. 

"  Company  for  dinner,"  she  told  him,  giving  him  a 
light  from  a  spill  she  brought  in  from  the  kitchen. 

"  Who  is  he?  "  he  inquired  between  puffs. 

"  He  ?  "  She  cocked  her  eyebrows  at  him,  pinching  out 
the  spill  between  finger  and  thumb.  "  Oh,  you  saw  him 
through  the  window,  didn't  you?  He  rode  up  that  side. 
Lord  knows  who  he  is,  I  don't.  Some  stranger.  Here 
comes  another.  No,  it  isn't  either.  Why,  it's  the  rela 
tive  you  brought  with  you  the  first  time  you  came  — 
your  brother.  When  you  were  lookin'  for  rustled  horses. 
Remember?  " 

His  face  reddened  at  the  recollection,  and  she  laughed 
at  him  over  her  shoulder  as  she  went  out  into  the  kitchen. 
Tom  Kane  had  dismounted  at  the  door.  A  moment  later 
the  girl  ushered  him  into  the  sickroom  and,  departing, 
closed  the  door  behind  her. 

Tom  let  himself  down  carefully  into  a  chair  and 
grinned  at  his  brother.  Tom  looked  slightly  the  worse 
for  wear.  A  bandage  gray  with  dust  encircled  his  head, 
and  it  was  obvious  that  he  had  not  shaved  for  many 
days.  Yet  his  grin  was  full  of  cheer. 

"  How're  they  comin'  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  In  bunches,"  replied  Red.  "  You  look  like  you'd  met 
up  with  a  bunch  yoreself.  What  happened?  " 

"  Nothin'  much."  Tom  scraped  the  floor  with  the  toe 
of  his  boot  and  looked  guilty. 

"Who  you  been  fightin'  with?" 

"  Well,  I  guess  I  got  a  right  to  as  well  as  you.     Hell's 


132  Lynch   Lawyers 

bells,  Red,  why  didn't  yuh  tell  a  feller  yuh  was  gonna  go 
up  against  that  88  bunch  ?  You  poor  fool,  you  ain't  fit  to 
be  trusted  out  o'  my  sight.  What  do  you  think  you  are 
—  a  army?  " 

"  How  could  I  tell  what  I  was  runnin'  into  ? "  de 
fended  Red.  "  I  didn't  know  nothin'  about  it  till  it  hap 
pened." 

"  An'  yuh  didn't  know  nothin'  much  afterward,  Tom 
Bowling  told  me  when  he  rid  in  to  Farewell  a  couple  o' 
days  after  the  fraycas.  That  was  the  first  I'd  heard  of 
it,  an'  I'd  'a'  come  right  out  here  instanter,  only  I  wanted 
to  sort  o'  settle  up  with  the  88  first.  Tom  said  you  was 
in  good  hands  an'  he  was  gonna  flock  round  with  yuh  an' 
sort  o'  lookout  yore  game  for  a  spell;  so  I  let  it  go  at 
that  an'  sashayed  out  myself  after  the  88. 

"  Naturally  I  had  to  be  careful.  They's  only  one  o' 
me  an'  a-plenty  o'  them.  But  I  cut  the  trail  o'  two  of 
'em  a  week  later  over  near  Soogan  Creek.  I  ventilated 
that  freckle- faced  Bill  Allen  through  the  leg  an'  downed 
both  their  hosses.  I  was  tryin'  for  a  shot  at  Tile  Stan- 
ton  when  that  crazy  'Lonzo  Peters  an'  Dan  Gildersleeve 
come  whoopin'  along  an'  I  had  to  drag  it  sharp  an'  soon. 
They  chased  me,  o'  course,  but  I  worked  a  Injun  trick  on 
'em  comin'  through  the  cottonwoods  along  the  Lazy,  an' 
'Lonzo  bit,  an'  I  nicked  him.  Plumb  through  the  shoul 
der,  I  heard  later.  That  made  two,  an'  the  work  half 
done. 

"  Four  days  later  me  an'  Bert  Kinzie  had  a  party  on 
Packsaddle.  Bert  burnt  the  side  o'  my  head  a  li'l  bit,  an' 
I  put  a  hole  in  his  hand  an'  drilled  his  arm.  This  made 
three.  Yuh  see,  I  didn't  wanna  down  nobody.  They 
didn't  down  you,  an'  I  was  only  out  to  play  even  for  the 
holes  in  yuh  —  one  gent  nicked  for  every  hole.  What 
could  be  fairer  than  that?  But,  o'  course,  they  didn't 
know  I  wasn't  really  serious,  an'  you  better  believe  they 
tried  to  beef  me  proper.  They  played  cautious  too. 


The   Stranger  133 

Kept  a-ridin'  round  in  pairs.  I  had  to  walk  in  the  water 
a  lot,  you  bet. 

"  But  I  wasn't  in  no  hurry.  I  had  all  the  time  there  is, 
an'  final,  yesterday  afternoon,  I  met  Dan  Gildersleeve 
slidin'  right  down  Main  Street  like  he  owned  the  town. 
He  seen  me  first,  but  his  shot  missed  an'  mine  didn't. 
Dan  got  his  jaw  an'  cheek  tore  up  some,  he  lost  a  few 
teeth,  an'  he  busted  his  arm.  But  I  didn't  have  nothin' 
to  do  with  the  arm.  He  done  that  himself  when  he  fell 
off  his  pony. 

"  Jake  Rule  —  yeah,  the  sheriff's  back  at  last  —  Jake, 
he  got  kind  o'  fussy  an'  said  I'd  been  a-huntin'  trouble  all 
along  an'  how  I'd  oughta  keep  my  feuds  for  out  o'  town. 
My  feuds !  An'  Dan  shootin'  at  me  first !  Well,  I  told 
Jake  what  I  thought  about  it,  an'  he  pulled  in  his  horns. 
Alia  same,  I  don't  guess  I'll  vote  for  Jake  next  election. 
He's  got  too  much  to  say  for  a  sheriff." 

Tom  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  nodded  at  Red  with 
keen  satisfaction. 

"  Yo're  paid  for,  old  settler,"  said  Tom.  "  Next  time 
I'll  bet  them  88  jiggers  will  look  ahead  a  ways.  Yes, 
sir,  I'll  gamble  they  will." 

"  Yuh  id  jit,"  murmured  Red  affectionately.  "  You 
never  will  learn  sense.  Bawlin'  at  me  for  wrastlin'  with 
a  whole  outfit  when  it's  plumb  necessary,  an'  then  you 
hop  out  an'  do  the  same  thing  when  it  ain't.  Don't  talk 
to  me,  you  catfish.  Seen  Old  Salt?  Guess  I  lost  my 
job  with  the  Bar  S  all  right." 

"  I  did  an'  you  have,  but  whadda  you  care  ?  Come  in 
the  freightin'  business  with  me.  Beats  punchin'  cows  a 
mile.  Yo're  y'own  boss.  They  ain't  no  dog  with  a 
brass  collar  to  tell  yuh  what  to  do,  an'  they's  money  in  it 
—  real,  shore-'nough  money.  Nemmine  decidin'  now. 
We'll  talk  about  it  when  yuh  get  well. 

"Man,  I  had  to  laugh  at  Old  Salt!  He  was  mad 
enough  to  chew  nails  when  he  rode  in  to  find  out  why 


134  Lynch   Lawyers 

yuh  hadn't  reported  an'  heard  what  had  happened.  Yuh 
know  how  his  ol'  mustache  jigs  up  an'  down  when  he's 
riled.  Well,  sir,  that  set  o'  whiskers  shore  kissed  his 
eyebrows  in  four  places.  '  This  is  a  helluva  note ! '  he 
shouts.  '  My  best  puncher  laid  up ! '  Yeah,  he  called 
yuh  that  without  thinkin'.  '  An'  a  range  war  started  to 
boot ! '  blats  on  Old  Salt.  '  How'n  Gawd's  name  can  a 
man  make  money  with  such  goin's-on!  An'  business 
was  just  a-hellin' !  Couldn't  'a'  been  better !  Red's  fired ! 
He  can't  never  whirl  a  rope  for  the  Bar  S  again.'  He 
was  shore  turned  upside  down,  Old  Salt  was,  an'  he  had 
three  drinks  one  after  another  in  the  Happy  Heart  all 
by  himself.  Didn't  even  treat  the  barkeep." 

"  A  range  war !  "  repeated  Red,  his  gray  eyes  very 
serious.  "  I  wonder  does  he  really  mean  that." 

"  Guess  so,"  said  cheerful  Tom.  "  Them  88  sports  are 
mad  clear  through.  Naturally,  you  bein'  Bar  S,  they 
won't  feel  like  huggin'  yore  side-kickers  when  they  meet. 
Lively  times,  old  settler,  lively  times.  But,  come  to  think 
of  it,  the  88  can't  do  such  a  lot.  They  ain't  many  of 
'em  to  do  it.  First  an'  last  you'n  me  have  laid  quite  a 
jag  o'  them  boys  on  the  shelf  —  seven  gents  an'  the  man 
ager.  Nawsir,  they'll  be  too  short-handed  for  a  spell  to 
do  more  than  squall.  Old  Salt's  a  fool  —  bellerin'  before 
he's  throwed." 

"  I  didn't  go  for  to  start  no  range  war,"  grieved  Red, 
thinking  of  his  former  comrades  of  the  Bar  S.  "  I 
wouldn't  want  none  of  'em  to  shuffle  off  on  my  account." 

"  They  won't  mind  that  none,"  declared  Tom  naively. 
"  They  know  youM  do  the  same  for  them  any  time. 
Don't  let  that  worry  yuh  a  minute,  Red.  We're  all  with 
yuh,  y'  bet  yuh,  an'  glad  o'  the  chance.  Tom  Dowling 
said  himself  it  was  about  time  somebody  put  a  crimp 
in  Lanpher.  .  .  .  Did  he  quit?  Shore  he  quit.  Said  he 
wouldn't  work  for  no  such  outfit  nohow.  Guess  he'll 
ride  for  the  Cross-in-a-box.  Jack  Richie  said  he'd  give 


The   Stranger  135 

him  a  job  any  time.  Huh  ?  The  jigger  on  the  gray  hoss  ? 
I  didn't  come  out  with  him.  He  was  ahead  o'  me." 

"  Has  he  been  in  Farewell  alia  time?  "  queried  Red. 

"  Stayed  a  week,  thassall.  Name's  Hollister.  I  heard 
him  askin'  for  mail  one  day." 

"D'hegetany?" 

"  Not  that  day."  Tom  glanced  over  his  shoulder  to 
make  sure  the  door  was  closed.  "  Say,"  he  went  on, 
lowering  his  voice  slightly,  "  you  ain't  asked  her  yet, 
have  yuh  ?  " 

"  Not  yet,  but  when  I'm  able  to  sit  up,  I'm  gonna  do 
it  too  quick.  Coin'  in  business  with  you,  Tommy  darlin', 
is  gonna  make  it  a  heap  easier  to  support  a  wife.  You 
dunno  how  obliged  I  am  to  yuh,  Tom.  I'll  try  to  make 
it  up  to  yuh  some  day." 

Tommy  darling  stared  blankly  at  his  brother. 

"  I  never  thought  o'  that,"  he  said  after  a  space.  "  I 
—  yo're  still  set  on  marryin'  the  lady?" 

11  You  bet."  For  a  wounded  man  the  declaration  was 
delivered  with  convincing  snap. 

"  Well,"  said  Tom,  after  another  brow-wrinkling  inter 
val,  "  she's  yore  private  funeral.  An'  I  guess  it  won't 
hurt  yore  business  value  none." 

When  Tom  had  gone  out  to  unsaddle  —  for  he  was 
staying  to  dinner  —  Red's  mind  reverted  uncomfortably 
to  the  fact  that  Bowling  had  given  Lorimer  the  proper 
name  of  Ben.  Red  began  to  invent  specious  reasons  why 
there  could  not  possibly  be  any  connection  between  the 
nester  and  the  knife.  Began  —  and  gave  it  up. 


CHAPTER   FIFTEEN 

RECOVERY 

OF  course  there  was  no  reason  why  the  unsmiling  Mr. 
Hollister  should  intrigue  Red  Kane.  But  he  did  intrigue 
him  from  the  moment  that  Red,  looking  through  the 
intervening  doorways,  saw  him  take  a  chair  at  the  Lor- 
imer  dinner  table. 

There  was  nothing  unusual  about  Hollister.  He  might 
have  been  a  puncher,  a  nester  or  a  cattle  buyer.  What 
ever  his  trade  or  profession,  he  was  indubitably  an  out 
door  man.  The  deep  tan  of  many  summers  under  the 
sun  bore  testimony  to  that.  Minus  his  hat,  Hollister  dis 
played  a  close-cut  head  of  yellow  hair. 

During  the  meal  Hollister  said  no  word.  He  champed 
and  chewed  unceasingly  except  when  the  spirit  moved 
him  to  drink.  In  both  eating  and  drinking  he  was  a 
mighty  trencherman  before  the  Lord.  He  had  three 
heaping  helpings  of  everything,  besides  nine  biscuits  and 
seven  cups  of  coffee.  Red  knew.  He  kept  count.  In 
a  land  where  men  ate  rather  more  than  less,  Hollister's 
appetite  was  remarkable.  Red  wondered  where  he  found 
room  to  stow  it  all.  For  Hollister  was  not  in  the  least 
fat.  As  has  been  said,  his  body  was  slim.  No  woman 
of  fair  size  need  have  been  ashamed  to  possess  a  waist 
the  size  of  Hollister's. 

Immediately  after  the  meal  Hollister  took  horse  and 
departed  eastward,  Red  was  told  by  Miss  Lorimer  when 
she  brought  him  in  a  most  nourishing  drink  concocted 
of  raw  eggs,  condensed  milk  and  water. 


Recovery  137 

"  I  didn't  hear  any  hens  a-cacklin',"  said  Red,  when 
she  had  wiped  his  mouth. 

"  Bless  you,  we  haven't  a  chicken  on  the  place.  Your 
brother  brought  them  with  him  from  Farewell.  Wasn't 
it  thoughtful  of  him?" 

Red  agreed  that  it  was.  Tom,  it  appeared,  was  still 
in  a  state  of  thoughtfulness.  He  was  sitting  on  a  rock 
beyond  the  spring,  his  elbows  on  his  knees  and  his  head 
in  his  hands. 

"  When  I  asked  him  if  he  had  cramps,"  said  the  direct 
Miss  Lorimer,  "  and  couldn't  I  give  him  a  drink  of 
whisky,  he  said,  '  No,  he  was  just  restin'.'  Funny  way  to 
rest,  sittin'  down  on  a  hard  rock.  Easy  now,  while  I 
slide  my  hand  under  your  head.  I  want  to  plump  up 
your  pillow  for  you.  Are  you  sure  your  brother's  all 
right?  Maybe  that  graze  is  deeper  than  it  seems." 

"  They's  nothin'  the  matter  with  Tom,"  Red  assured 
her.  "  He's  only  got  somethin'  on  his  mind,  an'  he's 
a-workin'  it  out.  That's  the  way  he  always  does  when 
he  thinks  —  sits  on  somethin'  hard  an'  wrastles  his  head 
with  both  hands." 

When  Miss  Lorimer  went  back  to  the  kitchen,  Red 
puzzled  his  brain  as  to  what  Tom  could  be  thinking  about. 
He  knew  it  was  not  the  feud  with  the  88.  Tom  was  not 
the  man  to  brood  on  or  worry  over  that. 

Red,  his  mental  exercise  acting  as  a  soporific,  presently 
dozed  off.  He  slept  the  long  warm  afternoon  away  and 
awoke  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening.  A  shaded  lamp  stood 
on  the  table.  In  the  chair  sat  Tom  Bowling.  He  was 
making  cigarettes.  There  was  a  pile  of  them  beside  the 
lamp.  Bowling  looked  up  at  the  slight  sound  of  Red's 
stirring. 

"  Miss  Lorimer  says  yuh  can  smoke  all  you  want,"  said 
Bowling,  getting  up  and  coming  to  the  bunk.  "  I  had  a 
lot  made  this  afternoon,  but  Tom  he  glommed  the  bunch, 
an'  I  never  found  it  out  till  after  he'd  gone.  Yeah,  he's 


138  Lynch    Lawyers 


went.  Told  me  to  tell  yuh  he'd  be  out  again  soon's  he 
could.  Here's  a  smoke  for  baby.  Open  the  li'l  mouthy, 
that's  a  good  girl.  Drag  at  it  now  with  the  li'l  ol'  bel 
lows.  Thassa  boy.  .  .  .  Where's  she  at?  Gone  huntin' 
some  kind  o'  Injun  yarb  for  yore  scratches  an'  another 
brand  o'  bark  to  bile  up  for  yuh  to  drink.  Say,  what  she 
dunno  about  doctorin'  you  could  write  on  yore  finger 
nail,  an'  yore  littlest  one  at  that. 

"  Gawd  knows  where  she  found  that  wild  indigo  an' 
dogwood.  They  ain't  none  growin'  round  here  I  ever 
heard  tell  of.  She's  a  six-ply  wonder,  that  lady.  Why, 
Red,  one  time  you  wouldn't  believe  how  you  was  carryin' 
on  —  yellin'  an'  hollerin'  all  about  a  Maje  Throstle  wit 
gent  an'  a  razor-back  hawg  an'  the  Queen  o'  the  West  an' 
corn-pone  an'  fried  chicken  till  yuh  made  my  mouth  water 
just  to  listen  to  yuh  —  you  was  carryin'  on  an'  bouncin' 
round,  an'  I  was  gonna  tie  yuh  down  before  yuh  busted 
them  bullet  holes  open.  But  Miss  Lorimer  wouldn't  have 
nothin'  like  that.  Not  her.  She  takes  some  o'  this  yarb 
an'  a  pinch  o'  that  bark  an'  wood  ashes  —  ordinary  wood 
ashes  —  an'  biles  it  up  an'  cools  it  off  an'  throws  that 
into  yuh.  An'  you  don't  holler  more'n  three  minutes 
after.  Nawsir,  Red,  you  start  a-millin'  right  then,  an* 
pretty  quick  yo're  all  bedded  down  quiet  an'  asleep. 

"  If  I  knowed  as  much  thataway  as  she  does,  I'd  be 
all  swelled  up  like  a  poisoned  pup.  But  not  her;  she  just 
acts  like  she  don't  know  nothin'.  I  tell  yuh,  she  can  walk 
all  over  me  any  time  an'  I'll  enjoy  it.  An'  that's  the  kind 
o'  hairpin  I  am." 

Red's  eyebrows  drew  together.  Of  course  Miss  Lor 
imer  was  all  that  Tom  Bowling  said  she  was.  But  it 
wasn't  in  the  least  necessary  for  Tom  to  praise  her  to  Red. 
It  was  none  of  Tom's  business.  What  did  the  poor  fool 
mean  anyway?  Why  couldn't  he  shut  up? 

Which  was  ungrateful  of  Red  and  unjust  to  Tom 
Bowling.  But  Red  was  a  sick  man,  and  the  sick  are  by 


Recovery  139 

their  very  nature  prone  to  magnify  trifles.  Was  it  pos 
sible  that  Tom  was  falling  in  love  with  Miss  Lorimer? 
Indeed  it  was  more  than  possible.  Why  not  ?  It  would 
be  strange  if  that  which  Red  considered  beautiful  did  not 
find  favor  in  the  eyes  of  other  men.  And  Tom  Dowling 
had  eyes.  Oh,  most  certainly  he  had  eyes. 

Red  lay,  wretched  and  jealous  while  Tom  Dowling 
talked  on,  and  cursed  the  luck  that  held  him  lapped  in 
bandages.  What  chance  had  a  bedridden  invalid  against 
a  man  who  was  up  and  about?  To  make  love  with  any 
likelihood  of  succeeding  one  must  have  the  use  of  one's 
arms  —  of  one  hand  at  the  least.  And  Red  Kane  could 
barely  wiggle  his  fingers.  The  handicap  was  rather  over 
whelming. 

Under  the  circumstances  it  is  no  wonder  that  when  Miss 
Lorimer  returned  from  her  herb-gathering  she  found  Red 
Kane  in  a  high  fever.  She  sent  Tom  Dowling  packing, 
insisting  in  the  face  of  his  strong  denial  that  he  had  in 
some  manner  unknown  to  her  excited  the  patient. 

"  I  don't  care,"  she  said,  as  she  shooed  him  into  the 
kitchen.  "  I  don't  mind  your  talkin'  to  him.  There's 
no  harm  in  that,  but  he  mustn't  be  got  all  hot  and  worked 
up.  I  won't  have  it,  and  I  don't  want  to  hear  any  ex 
cuses  either.  The  idea!  I  leave  him  cool  and  restin' 
easy,  and  I  come  back  and  find  him  restless  as  a  cat  and 
soaked  with  perspiration.  You're  a  fine  person  to  leave 
in  charge.  A  fi-ine  person,  I  must  say.  Don't  you  go 
in  there  again  without  my  permission.  That's  for  you 
too,  Dad!  .  .  .  What?  No,  I  don't  care  if  you  haven't 
been  in  yet.  You  can't  see  him  now.  To-morrow 
mornin'  perhaps." 

"  Y'act  as  if  we  was  kids!"  her  father  cried  indig 
nantly. 

"  That's  all  you  are,"  she  shot  back.  "  That's  all  any 
man  is  —  just  a  big  overgrown  kid,  and  the  quicker  you 
realize  that  important  fact  the  better." 


140  Lynch   Lawyers 


" '  Fact  —  important,'  "  he  repeated.  "  Quit  that  there 
book-talkin',  Dot.  I  don't  like  it." 

"  You  be  satisfied  if  I  drop  my  g's." 

"Who's  boss  round  here?"  demanded  Lorimer,  his 
black  eyes  twinkling. 

"  I'm  boss,  and  don't  you  forget  it  for  a  minute." 

"  I  guess  yo're  right  at  that,"  he  admitted  with  a  rue 
ful  grin. 

"  You  bet  I'm  right.  Here !  don't  lean  sidewise.  Bend 
forward  when  you  want  to  pick  anythin'  off  the  floor. 
You  won't  be  able  to  fool  with  that  rib  for  a  week  yet. 
Boss!  I  should  say  so!  If  you  didn't  have  one,  I  don't 
know  what  would  become  of  you." 

"  Now  see  what  yuh  done,  Dot,  talkin'  hard  thataway," 
remonstrated  her  father.  "  You've  scared  Dowling  so 
he's  gone  out  to  the  corral.  He  thinks  you  mean  all  them 
words.  He  dunno  how  real  skimmerin'  gentle  you  are 
inside." 

"  Oh,  I'm  gentle,  am  I  ?  Shows  how  much  you  know 
about  me.  Sidown,  Pa,  do,  till  I  get  the  table  set." 

A  capable  person,  Dot  Lorimer,  as  any  one  may  see. 

Red  Kane  listened  to  her  talk  and  smiled  gently  to 
himself.  There  was  a  girl  for  you!  I  should  say  so. 
No  nonsense  about  her.  Not  a  bit.  She'd  look  after  a 
man.  Gentle?  Of  course  she  was.  You  could  tell  that 
with  half  an  eye.  Tom  Kane  was  a  fool.  The  more  he 
thought  about  it  the  more  he  realized  how  much  of  a  fool 
Tom  Kane  was. 

"  I'll  have  the  laugh  on  Tom  yet,"  Red  told  himself. 
"  Yes,  sir,  I'll  shore  make  Tom  eat  his  words  without 
salt." 

Tom  Dowling,  however,  remained  a  large  fly  in  Red's 
mustard.  For  Dowling,  if  he  had  been  scared  out  to  the 
corral  as  reported  by  Lorimer,  had  gotten  bravely  over 
his  fright.  He  was  much  in  the  girl's  company.  Fre 
quently  Red  heard  them  laughing  together.  To  Red 


Recovery  141 

these  sounds  of  merriment  were  as  the  chuckling  of  fiends 
in  the  Pit.  Had  he  been  able,  he  would  have  writhed. 
But  what  he  did  not  do  physically  he  did  mentally  till  his 
teeth  chattered. 

But  always  these  periods  of  torture  and  bitter  de 
pression  would  be  dispelled  by  the  lady  herself,  who  would 
bring  Red  a  cool  drink  and  plump  up  his  pillow  and  cheer 
him  with  old  songs  that,  through  her,  he  had  learned  to 
love.'  And  they  would  talk  together  of  many  things,  the 
little  common  things  of  which  are  built  the  lives  and  loves 
and  hopes  of  this  our  world.  She  told  him  stories  too, 
—  stories  of  men  and  women  dead  and  dust  these  many 
hundred  years. 

Of  all  these  tales  he  liked  the  best  the  ones  that  dealt 
with  Robin  Hood,  an  outlawed  bowman  who  did  a  thriv 
ing  trade  on  the  pad.  Merry  Robin  was  a  favorite  with 
Miss  Lorimer,  it  appeared,  and  she  took  pains  to  make 
the  archer  live  again  for  her  listener. 

"  So  you  see,"  she  said  one  day,  at  the  end  of  the  story 
wherein  Robin  shoots  against  the  foresters  and  kills  a 
man,  "  he  was  not  really  wicked.  He  had  no  desire  to 
leave  his  home,  his  people,  and  become  an  outlaw  in  the 
greenwood.  But  he  had  no  choice,  don't  you  see.  He 
was  forced  —  forced  by  circumstances.  And,"  she  went 
on,  her  eyes  cast  down  upon  her  sewing,  "  I  think  that's 
the  way  it  is  in  real  life  sometimes.  A  man  doesn't  mean 
to  do  wrong,  but,  with  the  best  intentions  in  the  world,  he 
does  do  wrong.  Then  again,  there  are  times  when  a  man, 
without  having  done  a  thing  out  of  the  way,  is  absolutely 
compelled  to  become  an  outlaw.  A  man  must  fight  fire 
with  fire.  Bother!  I've  snapped  my  thread  again." 
She  knotted  the  thread  and  raised  her  eyes  to  his  a  fleet 
ing  instant.  "  You  believe  that,  don't  you,  about  fight 
ing  fire  with  fire  ?  " 

"  Y'bet  yuh,"  he  told  her  fervently. 

In  his  then  state  he  would  have  believed  anything  she 


142  Lynch   Lawyers 

wanted  him  to  believe.  After  all,  why  not?  What  sort 
of  man  is  he  who  cannot  see  eye  to  eye  with  his  heart's 
desire?  He  is  not  in  love,  be  sure  of  that. 

"  Ma'am,"  he  said  suddenly,  "is  that  Tom  Bowling 
round?" 

"  No,  he's  out  back  of  the  corral  with  Dad.     Why  ?  " 

"  Will  you  marry  me  ?  " 

She  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  looked  at  him  steadily. 
A  tiny  smile  lurked  at  one  corner  of  her  mouth,  a  dimple 
at  the  other. 

"I  —  I  — "  she  began,  and  stopped,  her  upper  lip 
caught  between  her  teeth. 

"  I  don't  mean  now  this  minute,"  he  cut  in  hastily. 
"  When  I  get  well." 

"  I'm  afraid  you're  a  little  feverish,"  she  said  promptly, 
and  stretched  out  a  cool  hand  and  laid  it  on  his  fore 
head. 

"  I  ain't  feverish,"  he  exclaimed  with  impatience. 
"Will  you?" 

The  lurking  smile  became  a  laugh.  She  crossed  her 
knees,  clasped  her  hands  and  swung  a  foot. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  know  what  love  means  ?  " 

"  Shore  I  am.     Why  wouldn't  I  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  you  do.  They  say  a  man  always 
falls  in  love  with  his  nurse." 

"  Who  says  so?  "  he  demanded  in  wrath. 

"  Everybody.  But  it  doesn't  matter.  What  I  have 
to  be  sure  of  is  your  end  of  it.  I  must  be  absolutely  sure 
that  you  love  me." 

"Ain't  I  tellin'  yuh  I  love  yuh?  What  more  do  yuh 
want?" 

"  You  may  only  think  you're  sure." 

"  If  I  could  walk  an'  use  my  arms  I'd  quick  show  yuh 
whether  I  loved  yuh  or  not.  Just  because  I'm  a-layin' 
here  all  crippled  up,  yuh  —  " 

"  Walkin'  and  usin'  your  arms  haven't  a  thing  to  do 


Recovery  143 


with  it,  not  a  thing.     Love  is  not  to  be  lightly  entered  into, 
and  —  " 

"  I  ain't  enterin'  it  lightly.  I  done  told  yuh  the  second 
time  I  met  yuh  I  was  gonna  marry  yuh,  an'  I'm  gonna 
do  it." 

"  Oh,  no  doubt  you  find  me  attractive.  That's  natural. 
There  aren't  many  women  in  this  country,  and  a  girl 
with  passable  good  looks  is  always  considered  a  beauty. 
You're  young  and  impressionable.  You  meet  me  and 
tumble  hard.  But  it  doesn't  mean  anything.  I  know 
these  love-at-a-glance  affairs.  They're  in  and  out  like  a 
dipping  tank.  In  a  year  you'd  either  have  forgotten  me 
or  would  want  to  forget  me.  Suppose  we're  married. 
What  then  ?  Wouldn't  I  be  in  a  fine  fix  ?  " 

vShe  looked  at  him  as  severely  as  she  was  able. 

"  Do  yuh  know  somethin'  ?  "  said  he.  "  I  believe  yo're 
lovin'  me  alia  time." 

"What!" 

"  Shore.  Yuh  gimme  too  many  reasons  against  it 
for  'em  to  be  natural.  Yuh  don't  mean  a  word  of  it,  not 
a  word.  If  yuh  didn't  care  nothin'  about  me,  yuh'd  'a* 
said  '  No  '  an'  been  done  with  it.  Lordy,  I  wish  I  could 
move  these  here  arms." 

"  I  didn't  say  a  word  about  myself,"  she  observed 
calmly.  "  I  didn't  say  I  couldn't  love  you,  you  know. 
It  may  be  that  I  could  love  you  —  I've  always  had  a 
weakness  for  red  hair.  Yes,  it's  quite  possible." 

She  nodded  to  him  and  smiled  again  and  continued  to 
swing  her  foot. 

"  Could  you  love  me?  "  he  asked,  controlling  his  voice 
by  an  effort. 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  could  love  you.  I'm  reasonably  sure  of 
that." 

'  Then  if  you  could  love  me  an'  I  do  love  you,  I  don't 
see  what's  to  stop  our  gettin'  married." 

"  Now  we're  back  where  we  started.     '  Could  '  and 


1 44  Lynch   Lawyers 

'  do  '  aren't  the  same  by  a  long  mile.  Before  I  marry 
you,  or  any  one,  I  must  first  be  sure  that  I  am  more  to 
them  —  to  him,  I  mean,  or  you  —  than  a  passin'  fancy. 
You  see,  in  this  I'm  thinkin'  of  them  —  him  or  you.  As 
a  wife  I'd  do  my  best  to  make  my  husband  happy,  but  as 
a  passin'  fancy  I'd  make  my  husband  wish  he'd  never 
been  born.  It's  all  or  nothin'  with  me.  Oh,  I'm  a 
jealous  cat  when  I  have  reason,  and  I'd  be  liable  to  throw 
things.  How'd  you  like  it  if  I  should  hit  you  in  the  eye 
with  a  plate  ?  " 

"  You  sound  like  my  brother,"  he  told  her  seriously. 

"Your  brother?"  " 

"  That's  the  way  he  talks  —  against  marriage.  But  I 
always  tell  him  he  dunno  what  he's  talkin'  about,  the  poor 
fool,  the  way  I'm  tellin'  you  now." 

"  You  mean  I'm  a  poor  fool?  "  Her  voice  shook  with 
mirth. 

"  You  know  well  enough  what  I  mean.  I  mean  you'll 
never  heave  no  crockery  at  me.  'Cause  why?  'Cause 
you'll  never  have  reason.  Yuh  can  shake  yore  head  all 
yo're  a  mind  to.  I  know  what  I  know,  an'  I  know  what 
I'm  gonna  do  when  I  get  well.  I'll  make  you  see  that  I 
love  you,  an'  I'll  make  yuh  admit  yuh  love  me  right  out 
loud  an'  plain.  What's  fairer  than  that?  " 

The  lady  put  her  head  on  one  side  and  regarded  him 
steadfastly. 

"  We'll  see,"  she  said  presently.     "  We'll  see." 


CHAPTER    SIXTEEN 

THIN    ICE 

RED,  convalescing,  was  sitting  on  the  bench  outside  the 
kitchen  door  with  Lorimer.  Red's  wounded  leg  was 
stretched  straight  out.  The  bullet  had  made  a  jagged 
wound,  and  there  was  still  danger  of  bursting  it  open. 
But  Red's  arms  and  shoulder,  beyond  a  slight  twinge  or 
stiffness  now  and  again,  were  completely  whole.  So 
nearly  recovered  was  he  that  Tom  Dowling  had  gone  to 
his  waiting  job  at  the  Cross-in-a-box. 

In  front  of  the  two  men  on  the  bench  were  lined  up 
on  horseback  the  sheriff,  Jake  Rule,  Kansas  Casey,  his 
deputy,  and  a  man  named  Bill  Derr,  half  owner  of  a 
ranch  south  of  Seymour.  Mr.  Derr,  a  person  of  even 
taller,  leaner  build  than  the  nester  Lorimer,  was  said  to 
know  more  concerning  the  territorial  criminal  element 
than  twenty  sheriffs.  His  work  had  been,  and  at  times 
still  was,  man-hunting.  He  was  engaged  to  Miss  Blythe, 
Mike  Flynn's  partner  in  the  Blue  Pigeon. 

Now  Bill  Derr  turned  his  washed-out  gray  eyes  on  the 
two  officers  of  the  law  and  laughed  shortly.  Kansas  and 
Jake  looked  sheepish. 

"  I  guess  I  gotta  make  allowances  for  you  fellers," 
said  Derr,  to  the  enjoyment  of  the  spectators  on  the 
bench  and  the  listening  girl  in  the  kitchen,  "  but  I  dunno 
why  yuh  didn't  write  for  a  fuller  description  of  this  Hud 
son  gent  before  draggin'  me  north.  You'd  'a'  saved  us 
all  trouble.  I  wouldn't  mind  if  Mister  Lorimer  was  John 
Hudson,  'cause  John  rustled  one  o'  my  ponies  once,  but, 


146  Lynch   Lawyers 

when  he  don't  even  look  like  him,  it  shore  gives  me  a 
pain." 

"  The  county'll  pay  the  bill !  "  cried  the  stung  sheriff. 

"  You  bet  it  will,"  said  Bill  Derr,  "  an'  I  won't  be  none 
easy  on  it  neither." 

At  this  juncture  there  appeared  on  the  top  of  the  ridge 
to  the  west  what  was  apparently  a  riderless  horse.  On 
its  nearer  approach  it  was  discovered  to  be  ridden  by  a 
small  and  hatless  boy.  The  horse  galloped  in  and  slid 
to  a  halt.  The  small  boy,  one  of  Galloway's  youngsters, 
panting  with  excitement  and  the  rush  of  his  ride,  straight 
ened  his  bare  legs  and  wiped  his  exceedingly  dirty  face 
on  his  sleeve.  His  mount,  white  with  lather  where 
leather  or  blanket  touched  its  hide,  soaked  with  sweat 
elsewhere,  stood  with  spread  legs  and  dropped  head.  Its 
flanks  heaved  like  hard-pumped  bellows,  and  its  red  nos 
trils  blew  in  and  out. 

"  You'n  Kansas  are  wanted  instanter,  Sheriff !  "  shrilled 
the  small  boy,  pop-eyed  with  importance. 

"  What  for?"  asked  Jake  Rule,  for  young  Galloway 
was  not  manifesting  the  respect  due  his  office. 

"You'll  see,"  replied  the  small  boy.  "The  stage's 
been  held  up  again  south  o'  Injun  Ridge  an'  they  robbed 
the  Gov'nor  o'  the  Territory  of  his  gold  watch  an'  all  his 
money  an'  he's  wild  an'  he  wants  to  see  you  right  away." 

The  small  boy  bobbed  his  head  in  emphasis  and  sat  up 
stiffly.  It  is  not  given  to  every  young  man  to  carry  mes 
sages  for  a  governor.  Dignity  swelled  the  chest  of  him 
till  his  damp  shirt  stretched  alarmingly. 

The  sheriff  and  the  deputy  stared  stupidly. 

"You  mean  the  Gov'nor  was  in  the  stage?"  Jake  Rule 
inquired  in  stricken  tones. 

"  Shore,"  yawped  the  child,  wriggling  bare  toes,  "  an' 
he  was  robbed  an'  he  wants  to  see  you  an'  Kansas.  He's 
mad,  you  bet.  Y'oughta  hear  him.  He's  cussin'  an' 
swearin'  like  all  gitout.  He's  got  it  in  for  you  an'  Kan- 


Thin   Ice  147 

sas.     He  said  you  wasn't  no  good,  either  o'  yuh,  or  yuh'd 
shore  wipe  these  road  agents  out." 

The  last  sentence  ended  in  a  full-lunged  shout,  for 
Rule  and  his  deputy  had  started  on  their  return  trip. 
And  they  traveled  at  speed.  Young  Galloway  looked  at 
the  three  men  and  laughed  infectiously. 

"  That  Gov'nor  man  will  shore  crawl  their  humps,"  said 
he. 

"  Slide  off,  sonny,"  invited  Miss  Lorimer.  "  I  have  a 
piece  of  pie  for  you." 

11 1  ain't  '  sonny  ',"  denied  the  boy,  tilting  a  snub  nose. 
"  I'm  Sam  Brown  Galloway.  What  —  what  kind  o'  pie 
is  it?" 

"  Dried  apple.     Do  you  like  candy  ?  " 

Sam  Brown  Galloway  did  not  hesitate.  He  was  dig 
nified  no  longer.  He  slipped  to  the  ground  and  spatted 
into  the  kitchen. 

Bill  Derr  slouched  forward,  his  forearms  braced  across 
the  saddlehorn.  There  was  unholy  mirth  in  his  washed- 
out  gray  eyes. 

"  The  Gov'nor  held  up,"  he  chuckled.  "  That's  a  real 
joke." 

"  Y'bet  yuh,"  said  Red.  "  I  heard  him  make  a  speech 
once  about  how  tame  the  West  was  gettin'.  Guess  he'll 
have  to  make  him  a  new  speech  now." 

"  He'll  just  about  snatch  the  sheriff  baldheaded,"  con 
tributed  Lorimer. 

"  An'  serve  him  right,"  averred  Red.  "  Bill,  why  don't 
you  get  in  on  this  ?  " 

'  Time  enough  when  they  ask  me.  After  all,  Jake  an' 
Kansas  oughta  be  able  to  curry  this  hoss." 

"  They'd  oughta,"  assented  Red.  "  Oh,  they'd  oughta 
all  right,  but  will  they?  An'  another  thing:  Can  they?  " 

"  If  they  don't  yuh'll  have  a  new  sheriff.  Do  I  see  a 
spring  over  yond'er?  I  do.  Hoss,  get  a-goin'.  I'm 
thirsty." 


148  Lynch   Lawyers 


"  You  dropped  yore  knife,  missis."  It  was  the  voice 
of  Sam  Brown  Galloway  speaking  to  Miss  Lorimer. 

"  It  isn't  mine,  dear.  Why,  how  funny !  It  has  dad's 
initials." 

At  this  Red  hastily  stuffed  both  hands  into  the  pockets 
of  his  trousers  and  explored  with  his  fingers.  In  the  bot 
tom  of  the  right-hand  pocket  was  a  hole.  A  knife,  were 
it  so  minded,  could  easily  slip  through  this  hole.  Red 
damned  the  child  under  his  breath. 

"  Whatsa  matter?  "  asked  Lorimer.     "  Leg  hurt?  " 

"  Bit  my  tongue,"  lied  Red,  his  ears  pricked  for  fur 
ther  revelations. 

These  came  presently. 

"  Here's  a  dime  in  the  corner,"  announced  the  clear 
young  voice.  "  Did  yuh  lost  a  dime,  missis?  " 

"  No,  dear,  I  didn't.  Ask  my  fa  —  Why,  it  has  the 
same  initials  the  knife  has.  This  is  queer." 

"  What's  this?"  asked  Lorimer,  leaning  round  the 
corner  of  the  door  jamb.  "  What  did  yuh  find  with  my 
initials  on  it?  " 

Sam  Brown  Galloway  brought  him  the  broken  jack- 
knife  and  the  dime. 

"They  yor'n,  mister?"  he  asked. 

Lorimer  held  the  two  articles  in  the  palm  of  his  hand 
and  fingered  them  curiously. 

"  Now  ain't  that  amazin',"  said  he.  "  My  initials  an' 
everythin'." 

"  Lessee."  Red  peered  over  his  shoulder,  making  a 
show  of  hunting  through  various  pockets.  "  I  lost 
them,"  he  went  on  in  a  tone  of  great  surprise.  "  I  never 
knowed  it  till  this  minute.  Got  a  hole  in  my  pocket." 

He  stretched  out  a  hand  for  the  jackknife  and  the 
dime.  Before  he  could  touch  them,  the  shadow  of  Bill 
Derr's  horse  fell  across  the  bench. 

"  Where,"  asked  Bill  Derr,  "  did  yuh  get  John  Hud 
son's  knife?  " 


Thin   Ice  149 

Red's  hand  paused  in  mid-air.  Then  he  continued  the 
motion  and  picked  up  the  jackknife  and  the  dime.  He 
did  not  look  at  Lorimer,  although  he  knew  that  Lorimer's 
black  eyes,  narrowed  to  glittering  slits,  were  fixed  on  his 
face.  He  looked  down  at  what  he  held  and  turned  over 
the  dime  so  that  the  two  initials  were  uppermost. 

"  Here,"  said  he,  holding  up  his  hand  toward  Derr. 
"  Is  the  dime  Hudson's  too  ?  " 

Bill  Derr  leaned  from  the  saddle,  took  the  jackknife 
and  the  dime  and  examined  them  minutely.  There  was 
a  tight-strained  silence  for  the  moment.  Red,  with  every 
appearance  of  an  ease  he  did  not  feel,  smoothed  down  his 
ruffled  hair.  Bill  Derr  handed  back  the  knife  and  dime. 
He  gave  Red  an  odd  look. 

"They're  John  Hudson's  all  right,"  he  declared. 
"  I've  seen  Hud  whittlin'  with  that  very  knife.  He  was  a 
great  feller  to  whittle.  Always  a-doin'  it  —  when  he 
wasn't  doin'  somethin'  else.  Here's  somethin'  he  whit 
tled."  He  fished  from  a  vestpocket  a  beautifully  finished 
little  wood-carving  of  an  Indian  girl's  head  and  held  it  up 
between  thumb  and  forefinger  for  all  to  see.  "  He  gim 
me  this  once,  an'  I've  always  kep'  it,  it's  —  it's  so  sort 
o'  cunnin'  like.  Not  that  I  got  any  use  for  Hud  —  now. 
This  here  dime  with  the  initials,"  he  went  on,  dropping 
the  carving  back  into  his  pocket,  "  is  a  pocket-piece  o'  his. 
Lucky  piece,  he  called  it.  I've  been  playin'  cards  with 
him,  an',  when  the  luck  would  go  against  him,  he'd  cross 
his  fingers  an'  feet,  take  this  dime  out  an'  spin  her  three 
times.  He  said  it  brought  him  luck.  I  dunno  as  it  ever 
did,  though." 

"  Seems  like  you  knowed  him  pretty  well,  Bill."  Red 
returned  Derr's  odd  look  with  interest. 

"I'd  oughta.  He  only  lived  five  mile  north  o'  my 
shack.  We  was  right  friendly,  the  tarrapin,  till  he  sloped 
with  my  hoss  an'  some  other  gent's  cattle,  so  yuh  needn't 
go  lookin'  cross-eyed  at  me  thataway." 


150  Lynch   Lawyers 


Red  laughed  outright  and  stuck  his  tongue  in  his 
cheek. 

"  Sun  was  in  my  eyes,"  said  he.  "  What  I'd  like  to 
know  is  where  the  B  L  fits  in.  If  his  name's  John  Hud 
son,  why  ain't  it  J  H  ?  " 

"  Brand,"  explained  Bill  Derr.  "  B  L  was  his  iron. 
He  only  owned  three  hosses  an'  a  dog,  but  he  had  a  brand 
alia  same  just  like  he  was  somebody." 

Red  turned  toward  Lorimer  and  smiled. 

"  For  a  minute  I  guess  you  thought  I  was  this  John 
Hudson  gent,  didn't  yuh  ?  "  asked  Red  Kane. 

"  Shore  not,"  Lorimer  assured  him.  "I  —  I  guess  I'll 
have  a  smoke." 

He  hid  his  confusion  in  the  business  of  cigarette  mak 
ing.  Red  winked  at  Bill  Derr. 

"  If  I  ain't  too  personal,  Red,"  said  the  latter,  "  would 
you  mind  tellin'  me  where  an'  when  you  found  them 
things?" 

"  I  found  —  "  began  Red,  then  stopped  abruptly,  for 
it  struck  him  that  if  he  replied  truthfully  Bill  Derr  would 
undoubtedly  wish  to  know  why  he  hadn't  reported  his 
find  to  the  proper  authorities. 

It  was  obviously  impossible  to  explain  that  he  had  re 
frained  because  he  had  suspected  Lorimer.  To  make  a 
bad  business  worse,  Lorimer  was  beginning  to  think  in 
another  direction.  Red  guessed  as  much  by  the  rigidity 
of  his  body  and  the  tapping  of  his  fingers  on  the  edge  of 
the  bench.  The  ice  was  very  brittle.  In  places  it  was 
cracking. 

"  G'on,"  urged  Derr. 

"  No,"  Red  said  firmly,  bound  to  reach  shore  if  he 
could.  "  Nemmine  where  I  found  them  things.  I  know 
yore  li'l  game,  Bill.  Yo're  on  the  lookout  for  the  reward. 
Yeah,  well,  I'm  tellin'  yuh,  cowboy,  if  they's  any  reward 
comin',  I'm  gonna  glom  onto  it.  Yessir,  li'l  ol'  me  my 
self.  Maybe  I'll  let  Tom  in  on  it.  I  dunno  yet.  But 


Thin   Ice  151 

anyway,  it's  gonna  stay  right  in  the  Kane  family  where 
it'll  do  the  most  good." 

"  Hawg,"  said  Derr.  "  I'd  be  ashamed  to  be  so 
greedy." 

"  Then  what  you  wanna  know  for?  "  demanded  Red. 

To  which  question  there  was  no  answer. 

When  Bill  Derr,  together  with  Galloway's  child,  had 
ridden  away  toward  Farewell,  Lorimer  squinted  up  at  the 
sky  and  coughed. 

"  Funny  how  them  things  had  my  initials  on  'em,"  he 
observed. 

"  Yeah,"  drawled  Red.     "  Ain't  it?  " 

"  Yeah,  it  is.  Damn  funny.  You  didn't  know  they 
was  my  initials,  did  yuh  ?  " 

"  How  could  I  know  ?  "  Red  turned  the  most  inno 
cent  eyes  in  the  world  on  the  other  man.  "  You'd  never 
told  me  yore  front  name.  An'  yore  daughter  always 
called  yuh  '  Pa.'  " 

This  was  skinning  the  cat  both  ways  with  a  vengeance, 
yet  truth  was  unashamed.  No  lawyer  could  have  con 
trived  it  better. 

"  Yo're  right,  I  didn't,"  admitted  the  nester.  "  Tom 
Dowling  called  me  Lorimer,  too,  I  remember." 

"  Shore.  Lookit,  don't  you  guess  if  I'd  knowed  yore 
initials  I'd  'a'  said  somethin'  ?  Lordy,  man,  why  wouldn't 
I  say  somethin'?  Why  wouldn't  I,  huh?  Say,  what 
are  you  drivin'  at?  " 

"  And  you'd  better  be  sure  and  certain  about  it  before 
you  start  drivin',  Pa,"  cut  in  Dot  Lorimer,  leaning  over 
the  window  sill.  "  You  know  yourself  you  jump  at  con 
clusions  too  much." 

"  I  guess  I'm  a  fool,"  said  Lorimer.  "  I'm  too  hasty, 
maybe.  No  hard  feelin's?  " 

"  I  dunno  of  any."     Red  shook  his  head. 

"  That'll  be  good.  Dot,  how  'bout  a  couple  o'  them 
doughnuts  just  to  keep  us  from  fallin'  in  till  dinner?  " 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN 

THINNER   ICE 

IT  was  a  week  later.  Mr.  Lorimer  had  taken  one  of 
the  wagons  and  gone  to  Sweetwater  Mountain  to  cut 
wood.  He  was  getting  in  the  winter's  supply. 

Red,  now  quite  recovered  —  he  was  leaving  for  Fare 
well  in  the  morning  —  sat  cross-kneed  on  a  sack  beside 
the  spring  and  watched  Miss  Lorimer  darning  socks.  She 
was  sitting  on  a  chair  he  had  made  for  her  out  of  a  strip 
of  canvas  torn  from  an  old  wagon  cover,  and  peeled  young 
cottonwood  trunks. 

The  sun  shone  in  a  blue  and  cloudless  sky.  But  it  was 
not  hot.  A  vagrom  breeze  was  shaking  the  tops  of  the 
cottonwoods,  and  the  leaves  were  flittering  and  rustling 
with  pleasant  little  snaps  and  crackles.  The  play  of  the 
leaves  made  a  play  of  lights  and  shadows  on  the  head 
and  figure  of  Miss  Lorimer.  There  was  one  small  patch 
of  sun  at  the  corner  of  her  mouth  that  came  and  went 
with  the  dimple  there.  Red  watched  with  fascinated 
eyes. 

"  Say,"  he  remarked  suddenly,  "  have  you  seen  any- 
thin'  o'  my  green  handkerchief?  " 

"  I  saw  it,"  she  replied  with  meaning. 

"  Where  ?  I  had  it  yesterday,  but  she  was  gone  this 
mornin'.  Where'd  I  put  it  anyway?  " 

"  You  hung  it  on  the  back  of  a  chair.  I  put  it  away 
where  it  would  be  safe." 

"Safe?    Why  for  safe?" 


Thinner   Ice  153 

She  lifted  her  dark  eyes.  There  was  an  amused 
twinkle  in  their  cool  depths. 

"  I  couldn't  stand  it  any  longer,"  she  told  him.  "  I 
just  couldn't.  It  used  to  set  my  teeth  on  edge  to  watch 
you  wear  that  vivid  green  thing  with  your  gray  shirt 
speckled  with  those  horrible  purple  horseshoes." 

"Horrible?"    His  face  fell. 

"  Horrible.  Heavens,  Red,  don't  you  know  that  green 
and  purple  swear  at  each  other  ?  " 

"  Swear?  "    He  was  still  over  his  head. 

"  Clash,  then.  The  two  colors  don't  go  together. 
They're  awful,  Red.  Honestly." 

"  Tom  did  say  them  an'  my  red  head  together  would 
be  kind  o'  bright,"  he  admitted.  "  But  I  thought  they 
was  pretty.  I  liked  them  purple  hoss-shoes,  an'  that 
green  sort  o'  set  'em  off  like." 

"  You  bet  it  set  'em  off.  It's  a  wonder  they  didn't 
explode.  Promise  me  not  to  wear  that  green  handker 
chief  with  that  shirt,  won't  you?  " 

"  Shore  I  will.  Any  thin'  you  say  goes.  If  them  col 
ors  don't  hitch,  they  don't  thassall.  Can  I  wear  the 
shirt?" 

She  smiled  adorably.  "  The  shirt'll  pass  —  the  horse 
shoes  aren't  so  strikin'  as  they  were.  They  faded  in  the 
washin'.  It  made  the  gray  streaky  a  little,  too.  I'm 
sorry.  I  couldn't  help  it." 

"Thassall  right.  Don't  let  that  worry  yuh.  Them 
hoss-shoes  was  always  too  bright,  an'  I  like  my  shirt 
streaky.  You  needn't  laugh.  I  do,  honest.  Lordy, 
think  o'  you  knowin'  them  colors  didn't  ride  together. 
An'  me  thinkin'  they  was  all  right  alia  time.  I'm  igno 
rant.  I  know  it.  I  guess  now  that's  one  of  the  reasons 
you  think  I  don't  love  yuh  —  'cause  I  bulge  right  ahead 
doin'  what  I  oughtn't  to  do.  I  guess  that's  one  o'  the 
reasons  shore-'nough." 

"  Oh  —  "  she  began  hesitatingly. 


154  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  I  can  see,"  he  said.  "  I  got  eyes.  Yo're  different. 
You  think  different.  You  talk  different.  Yo're  edu 
cated.  I've  noticed  it.  I  never  had  much  time  for 
schoolin'." 

"  That  isn't  it,  at  all,"  she  told  him. 

"  There  y'are.  I'd  'a'  said  '  ain't ',  an'  you  know  it. 
I  say  '  them  things  '  too,  an'  you  don't.  You  can  shore 
make  the  dictionary  sit  up  an'  beg,  an'  I  never  could  in  a 
million  years.  Yessir,  Dot,  all  them  things  is  what  counts 
with  a  girl  like  you,  an'  —  " 

"  I  did  hurt  your  feelin's,"  she  exclaimed  contritely. 
"  I  know  I  did.  I  didn't  mean  to.  Oh,  I'm  a  selfish  girl. 
I  —  I  don't  mean  to  be." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  grieving  wistfulness. 

"  Never  think  it,"  he  assured  her.  "  You  didn't  hurt 
my  feelin's,  not  a  smidgin.  You  can't  help  bein'  educated 
an'  different.  But  I  love  you,  an'  I'm  gonna  show  yuh 
none  o'  them  things  count  for  such  a  much.  What  does 
it  matter  if  I  wear  a  red  an'  yaller  shirt  with  a  pair  o' 
pink  pants  an'  say  *  not  no  '  an'  '  them  is  '  forty  to  the 
minute?  What  does  the  like  o'  that  matter  if  I  love  yuh 
so  hard  I  wanna  cut  the  throat  of  anybody  who  looks  at 
yuh  ?  What  does  it  now  ?  " 

"It  does  matter  —  a  little.  If  you  really  loved  me, 
you'd  want  to  do  what  I  —  I  liked." 

"  But  I  do.  Lordy,  I  —  Yuh  mean  to  say  yuh  want 
me  to  talk  grammar  an'  not  wear  shirts  o'  funny  colors, 
an'  —  " 

"If  you  loved  me,  you'd  want  to." 

"If?  They  ain't  no  '  if  s.'  Never  an  '  if.'  Nawsir. 
Here's  where  I  start  in  goin'  easy  on  the  rainbow,  but 
I  dunno  how  I'm  gonna  teach  old  words  new  tricks  with 
out  yo're  round  to  show  me.  But  you'll  be  round  alia 
time  one  o'  these  fine  spring  mornin's,  so  don't  let  that 
worry  yuh.  Honest,  I'll  swing  an'  rattle  with  that  dic 
tionary  four  hours  a  day  if  you  say  so.  I'll  do  any  thin' 


Thinner   Ice  155 

bar  nothin'  to  make  yuh  happy.  I'll  show  you.  You 
watch  my  smoke." 

He  nodded  a  confident  head  and  grinned. 

"  Sometimes  I  think  perhaps  you  do  love  me,"  she  said, 
giving  him  a  troubled  look. 

"  Yo're  gonna  think  so  alia  time.  An',  when  you  do, 
I'm  gonna  kiss  you  so  hard  you  won't  be  able  to  breathe 
for  a  week." 

"Why  don't  you  do  it  now?"  Her  black  eyes  held 
his  gray  ones  steadily. 

"  You  ain't  ready  yet.  If  you  was,  you  wouldn't  ask 
me  no  questions." 

"  You  must  have  had  lots  of  experience,"  she  said,  a 
trifle  disconcerted. 

"  Not  me.  What  li'l  I  know  I  got  by  hearsay  an'  main- 
string.  An'  I  know  better'n  to  kiss  you  now.  I'd  spoil 
everythin'  if  I  did.  Yuh  needn't  look  disappointed. 
'Cause  y'aint  disappointed.  Not  a  bit.  Can't  fool  this 
orphan  child  by  gogglin'  at  me  under  yore  eyewinkers 
either,  you  sassy  rascal." 

He  bobbed  his  head  at  her  and  patted  Juba  on  his 
knees. 

"  Tell  yuh  somethin'  else,"  he  said  jerkily,  for  his  hands 
were  thumping  furiously,  "  yo're  gonna  kiss  me  first." 

"  I  am." 

"  You,  Dot  Lorimer,  are.     I  done  said  it." 

"  You  say  quite  a  lot,  young  man.  I  don't  know  when 
I've  heard  any  one  talk  so  much." 

'"  Clack,  clack,'  goes  the  ol'  millwheel,  huh?  Don't 
yuh  care.  Better  times  comin'.  I'm  goin'  home  to-mor 
row.  Then  you'll  be  sorry  for  treatin'  me  so  cruel.  Yep, 
you'll  shore  miss  this  cowboy.  Don't  cry  too  hard." 

"  I'll  try  not  to,"  she  said  with  a  mock  sniff,  and  she 
bit  off  a  thread  with  a  snap  of  white  teeth. 

She  held  up  a  mended  sock  by  the  toe,  shook  out  the 
egg-shaped  darning-gourd  from  the  heel  and  laid  the  sock 


156  Lynch    Lawyers 


across  her  knee.  She  did  not  immediately  take  up  an 
other  but  sat  with  head  bent  and  smoothed  and  smoothed 
with  deliberate  fingers  the  one  on  her  knee. 

Suddenly  she  raised  her  head  and  met  Red's  eyes..  She 
loked  at  him  gravely. 

"  Red,"  said  she  —  they  had  been  Dot  and  Red  to  each 
other  for  a  week  —  "where  did  you  really  find  that 
broken  jackknife  and  the  dime?  " 

He  did  not  attempt  to  evade  her  questioning  as  he  had 
that  of  Bill  Derr. 

"  In  Farewell,"  he  told  her. 

"  Whereabouts  in  Farewell?  " 

"  Between  the  express  office  an'  the  company's  corral." 

"  After  the  robbery  or  before  ?  " 

"  After." 

"  What  did  you  think  when  you  found  it?  " 

"  Why  — uh  —  I  dunno."  He  was  faltering  in  his 
stride. 

"  It  would  be  natural  for  you  not  to  think,  wouldn't  it  ? 
Oh,  yes,  very  natural.  You  know  perfectly  well  you  won 
dered  what  my  father's  first  initial  was.  Now  be  honest. 
Didn't  you?  Look  at  me.  There's  nothin'  of  interest 
for  you  on  the  ground,  and  you've  seen  your  feet  a  million 
times.  Look  me  in  the  eye.  Didn't  you?  " 

"  Maybe  I  did."  He  looked  her  in  the  eye  as  ordered, 
but  it  was  hard  work. 

"  Did  you  know  his  name  was  Benjamin?  " 

"  Not  then." 

"  But  you  found  it  out  later?  " 

"  Yeah." 

"  Then  you  did  suspect  my  father.  I  know  you  must 
have,  or  you'd  have  mentioned  havin'  found  a  knife  with 
his  initials.  You  needn't  shake  your  head.  There  was 
a  shred  or  two  of  suspicion  in  your  mind.  There  must 
have  been.  Otherwise  you  wouldn't  be  human.  Oh,  I 
knew.  Why  do  you  suppose  I  cut  in  when  Dad  was 


Thinner   Ice  157 

askin'  you  if  you  knew  his  name  was  Benjamin,  if  I 
didn't  know?  My  Lord,  you'd  have  given  the  whole 
show  away  and  gotten  yourself  shot  good  and  plenty  if 
I'd  let  you  go  on  talkin'.  You're  not  a  good  liar,  Red. 
You're  only  fair,  and  that's  almost  as  bad  as  tellin'  the 
truth.  Sooner  or  later  the  only  fair  liar  is  caught  just 
as  I  caught  you.  Don't  look  so  crestfallen,  boy.  You 
can't  fool  a  woman  with  lies  —  ever.  Remember  Eve 
ate  of  the  apple  before  Adam  did,  and  women  have  been 
that  much  ahead  of  men  ever  since.  I  would  —  " 

Abruptly  she  stopped  speaking  and  looked  over  the  top 
of  Red's  hat  with  slightly  narrowed  eyes.  Red  turned  a 
quick  head.  A  man  was  rounding  the  corner  of  the  cor 
ral.  He  was  coming  in  their  direction.  The  man  was 
Kansas  Casey.  He  advanced  with  a  smile  and  took  off 
his  hat  to  the  girl. 

Red  did  not  smile  in  return.  He  replied  with  a  grave 
"  Hello,  Kansas  ",  to  the  other's  greeting  and  watched 
him  alertly.  Red  could  not  have  named  the  exact  cause 
—  certainly  Casey's  manner  was  markedly  friendly  — 
yet  Red  was  oppressed  with  a  vague  unease,  an  unease 
that  grew  stronger  with  every  breath  he  drew. 

Why  had  Kansas  not  let  his  presence  be  known  before 
he  slid  round  the  corner  of  the  corral?  What  was  his 
purpose  in  coming  to  the  ranch-house  by  stealth?  Why 
all  this  furtive  f oxiness  ?  Why  ? 

"  Whyfor  this  Injun  business?  "  inquired  Red,  cutting 
straight  to  the  heart  of  the  matter. 

"  Injun  business  ?  "  Kansas  cocked  a  quizzical  eye 
brow  at  Red. 

"  Shore,  Injun  business.  This  driftin'  in  so  soft  an' 
quiet  we  didn't  hear  nothin'  till  yuh  stuck  yore  head  round 
the  corner  of  the  corral.  Had  yuh  been  waitin'  at  that 
corner  long?  "  This  last  at  a  venture,  and  it  seemed  to 
strike  the  black,  for  the  eyelids  of  Kansas  Casey  twitched 
the  least  bit. 


158  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  What  makes  yuh  think  I  was  waitin'  at  that  corner  — 
long  or  a-tall?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  was  just  a-wonderin',  thassall,"  drawled  Red.  "  7 
wonder  a  lot  now  an'  then." 

;<  Yeah."    Thus  Kansas,  with  a  rising  inflection. 

His  smile  became  quizzical,  and  he  looked  at  Red  as 
one  looks  at  a  small  child.  The  tolerance  in  his  expres 
sion  was  as  obvious  as  it  was  maddening.  He  held  out 
his  hand. 

"  S'pose  you  gimme  that  knife,  Red,"  he  suggested, 
"  an'  the  dime  too,  while  yo're  at  it." 

The  deputy's  choice  of  words  was  unfortunate.  Red, 
already  peevish,  took  instant  umbrage. 

"  An'  s'pose  I  don't  do  nothin'  like  that?  "  Red's  drawl 
became  more  pronounced. 

"  Then  I'll  have  to  take  'em  away  from  yuh." 

The  deputy's  smile  had  not  vanished.  It  had  grown 
fixed  as  set  concrete,  and  his  eyes  were  sharply  deter 
mined. 

Red  gave  a  short  hard  laugh. 

"  You'll  take  'em  away  from  me?"  said  he.  "You'll 
take  'em  away  from  me?  What  makes  you  think  you 
will?" 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Red,"  urged  Kansas.  "  That  knife 
an'  dime  are  evidence.  I'm  try  in'  to  do  this  peaceable, 
but  I  want  them  two  things  an'  I'm  gonna  have  'em." 

Red  hesitated.  He  knew  Kansas  was  in  the  right,  but 
Kansas  had  sneaked  up  on  him,  Kansas  had  rubbed  him 
the  wrong  way.  He  felt  that  Kansas  was  making  him 
cut  a  poor  figure  before  his  lady.  This  was  vanity.  Out 
of  the  corner  of  his  eye  he  stole  a  quick  glance  at  Miss 
Lorimer.  She  was  motionless,  and  she  was  watching 
Kansas  like  a  cat.  Red  thought  her  face  had  gone  a 
trifle  pale.  But  he  could  not  be  sure,  she  was  so  brown. 

Red  grinned  suddenly  at  Kansas  and  stuck  jaunty 
thumbs  in  the  armholes  of  his  vest. 


Thinner   Ice  159 

"  Do  yuh  want  them  things  now,"  he  asked,  "  or  will 
yuh  wait  till  yuh  get  'em?  " 

"  Stop  playin'  the  fool,  Red,"  admonished  Kansas. 
"  This  is  serious.  You  don't  seem  to  realize  none  how 
serious  it  is.  Shucks,  Red,  I  ain't  lookin'  for  trouble, 
can't  yuh  see  that?  If  it  was  anybody  else  but  you,  I 
wouldn't  waste  my  time  talkin'.  I'd  —  " 

"What  would  yuh  do?"  interrupted  Red.  "I  hope 
yuh  wouldn't  do  nothin'  rash.  Yuh  wouldn't  hurt  me, 
would  yuh?  I  might  get  offended  if  yuh  did." 

"  Red,  you  idjit,  look  yonder,"  snapped  Casey,  with  a 
jerk  of  his  thumb  toward  the  ranch-house. 

Red  looked  where  he  was  bidden.  On  the  bench  beside 
the  kitchen  door  sat  a  lengthy  citizen  of  Farewell,  one 
Shorty  Rumbold.  Shorty's  rifle  lay  across  his  knees. 
The  barrel  was  pointing  in  the  general  direction  of  Red 
Kane  and  Miss  Lorimer. 

Red's  gaze  returned  to  Kansas  Casey. 

"  Y'oughta  know  better'n  to  use  Shorty  for  that,"  said 
he.  '  Yuh  know  what  a  poor  shot  he  is.  He  might  hit 
the  lady  instead  o'  me." 

"He  might,"  put  in  Kansas  softly,  "but  I  won't. 
S'pose  now  you  keep  them  thumbs  hooked  right  where 
they  are.  I  hate  to  do  this,  Red,  but  yo're  so  mulish  I 
gotta." 

Red  stared  unmoved  into  the  muzzle  of  Casey's  six- 
shooter. 

"  I'd  like  to  —  "  he  began. 

"  He  ain't  here,  Kansas !  "  called  a  voice  from  a  win 
dow  of  the  ranch-house.  "  Where's  he  at?  "  pursued  the 
voice.  "  Yore  dad  —  where  is  he,  miss  ?  " 

"So  that's  it,  is  it?"  said  Red,  glaring  at  Kansas. 
"The  sheriff's  gettin'  active,  huh?  The  old  coot! 
Mighty  smart,  yuh  think  y'are,  don't  yuh,  a-holdin'  us 
here  with  yore  chatter  while  the  sheriff  an'  the  rest  of 
'em  sifts  in  an'  searches  the  house,  huh?  Mighty  smart. 


160  Lynch   Lawyers 

Who's  the  stranger  ?    Two  strangers  —  three !    What  are 
they  hornin'  in  for  ?  " 

Three  strangers  had  followed  the  sheriff  out  of  the 
kitchen.  For,  hearing  no  reply  to  his  shouted  question, 
the  sheriff  was  coming  to  close  quarters.  Red,  taking 
care  to  keep  his  thumbs  hooked,  slowly  rose  to  his  feet. 

Miss  Lorimer  did  not  rise.  Deliberately  she  dropped 
the  sock  she  had  been  smoothing  into  the  basket  on  the 
ground  beside  her  chair,  crossed  one  unconcerned  knee 
over  the  other  and  stifled  a  yawn  with  her  pretty  hand. 
The  yawn  brought  to  a  graceful  conclusion,  she  tucked 
in  a  loose  tendril  of  hair  behind  an  ear  and  clasped  her 
hands,  right  thumb  over  left,  in  her  lap. 

The  sheriff,  standing  in  front  of  the  girl,  took  off  his 
hat  to  her  and  achieved  a  jerky  bow.     Then  he  pulled  on 
the  hat  and  coughed.     He  felt  that  his  task  would  not 
be  easy.     The  girl  looked  too  competent  by  half. 
"Where's  yore  pa,  miss?"  he  asked. 

The  lady  looked  up  at  him  sweetly.  She  smiled  charm 
ingly  and  began  to  twiddle  her  thumbs. 

"  Isn't  he  in  the  house  ?  "  was  her  Yankee  answer. 

"  No,  he  ain't." 

"  Then  he  must  be  out."  She  stopped  revolving  her 
thumbs,  lifted  one  hand  and  inspected  a  slim  forefinger. 
"  I  do  believe  I  broke  my  nail  after  all,"  she  observed, 
quite  as  if  the  sheriff  and  his  men  were  in  the  next  county. 

"  Nemmine  yore  nail,"  Jake  Rule  said  acidly.  "  I 
wanna  know  where  yore  pa  is." 

The  dark  head  lifted.  She  surveyed  the  sheriff  coolly, 
critically,  and  a  little  weariedly. 

"  You'd  like  to  know  where  my  father  is  ? "  she 
drawled. 

"  I  said  so."  There  was  a  note  of  irritation  in  the 
sheriff's  tone. 

"  I  heard  you  say  so,"  she  admitted.  "  You  shouted 
it  from  the  window,  didn't  you  ?  " 


Thinner   Ice  161 

The  sheriff  swallowed  hard.  Shorty  Rumbold  smoth 
ered  a  smile  with  difficulty. 

"  Nice  weather  we're  havin',"  remarked  Red  Kane, 
whom  the  girl's  sheriff-baiting  was  restoring  to  good 
humor.  "  But  maybe  it'll  rain.  What  do  you  think, 
Kansas?" 

His  appeal  to  the  deputy  was  accompanied  by  a  por 
tentous  wink. 

"  Why  not  introduce  yore  friends  ?  "  continued  Red 
Kane.  "  I  think  one  of  'em's  a  sheriff  or  somethin'. 
They's  the  edge  o'  what  looks  like  a  star  stickin'  out 
under  his  vest.  Why  don't  he  wear  it  outside  on  his  vest 
so's  folks  can  tell  he's  sheriff?  Y'ain't  ashamed  o'  bein' 
a  sheriff,  are  yuh,  mister  ?  " 

At  the  direct  question  the  man  addressed  frowned  upon 
the  jester.  He  was  a  consequential-looking  person  with 
a  self-satisfied  mouth  and  little  piggy  eyes.  There  was 
a  fleshiness  about  his  middle  that  agreed  ill  with  his 
sheriff's  star. 

"  I  wear  my  star  where  I  please,"  he  said,  in  a  high, 
thin  voice.  "  I  dunno  as  it's  none  o'  yore  business,  is  it?  " 

"  I  dunno  as  'tis,"  replied  Red,  in  a  mocking  falsetto. 
"  I  dunno  as  'tis.  But  then  I  don't  always  mind  my  own 
business.  Sometimes  I'll  help  out  other  folks  with  theirs. 
I  ain't  proud  thataway.  Nobody  can  say  I'm  proud. 
Why,  feller,  I'd  even  help  you  out  if  I  thought  yuh  needed 
it." 

The  reedy-voiced  sheriff  glowered  at  Red  Kane. 

"  Huh,"  he  grunted.     "  Huh." 

The  other  two  strangers  paid  no  attention  to  Red. 
They  kept  their  eyes,  sharp  eyes,  too,  fixed  on  Miss  Lor- 
imer.  One  of  these  men  had  a  brown  and  jutting  beard 
and  a  pony-built  body.  The  other  man  was  clean-shaven, 
with  lots  of  teeth  and  a  curiously  twisted  nose. 

Sheriff  Rule  shifted  his  feet  impatiently.  He  wanted 
to  be  getting  on.  Time  pressed,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing. 


1 62  Lynch    Lawyers 

And  here  he  was  being  held  up,  both  in  a  business  way 
and  to  ridicule,  by  a  contumacious  girl. 

"  You'll  save  trouble  by  tellin'  where  yore  pa  is,"  he 
told  her. 

"Trouble?"  she  repeated.  "What  kind  of  trouble? 
And  for  whom  ?  You  ?  Or  my  father  ?  Or  myself  ?  " 

"  All  round,  ma'am." 

"  Oh,  all  round.  That's  interestin'.  That's  very  inter- 
estin'.  Oh,  yes,  indeed.  But  I  don't  know  that  I  care  to 
save  trouble.  Why  should  I  ?  " 

Again  the  pretty  hand  concealed  a  yawn. 

The  sheriff  drew  a  long  breath.  The  hair  at  the  back 
of  his  neck  began  to  bristle.  He  took  a  step  forward 
and  pointed  a  lean  finger  at  the  girl. 

"  Don't,  Red !  "  cautioned  Kansas,  for  the  other  had 
unhooked  a  thumb. 

The  thumb  crept  back  into  position  with  reluctance. 

"  I'm  sure  the  occasion  does  not  call  for  violence," 
observed  Miss  Lorimer,  with  a  sidelong  glance  at  Red. 
"If  the  sheriff  only  realized  how  silly  he  looks  wavin' 
his  finger  at  me,  why  —  " 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence  but  shrugged  her  shoul 
ders  and  twinkled  her  black  eyes  at  the  sheriff.  He 
stepped  back,  looking  foolish,  and  slapped  his  hands  hard 
down  on  his  hip  bones. 

"  Look  here,  miss,  I  wanna  know  where  yore  dad  is. 
Now  you  tell  me,  like  a  good  girl."  He  licked  his  wheed 
ling  tongue  across  his  lips  and  nodded  his  head  to  encour 
age  her.  . 

"  '  Like  a  good  girl.'  You  talk  as  if  I  were  three  years 
old  and  played  with  tin  dishes.  You  make  me  tired. 
I'll  tell  you  what  you'd  better  do,  Mister  Sheriff.  You'd 
better  hoist  yourself  into  the  saddle  and  travel  straight 
back  to  Nottingham.  Because  I'll  never  tell  you  where 
Robin  Hood  is,  not  if  you  stay  here  till  Doomsday.  So 
now  you  know." 


Thinner   Ice  163 

"  '  Robin  Hood,'  "  repeated  the  sheriff,  his  mentality 
having  shed  the  allusion  as  a  duck  sheds  water.  "  I  don't 
know  nothin'  about  Robin  Hood.  I  never  said  nothin' 
about  him,  did  I?  I  wanna  know  where  yore  dad  is, 
that's  all.  An'  I'm  gonna  know." 

"  You  won't  have  no  better  luck  than  the  Sheriff  of 
Nottingham,"  he  was  assured  by  the  frankly  delighted 
Red  Kane. 

"  Lemme  try  my  hand,"  said  the  stranger  sheriff,  sid 
ling  past  Jake  Rule.  "  I'll  show  yuh  how  to  manage  this 
fool  girl." 

It  was  unlucky  for  the  stranger  that  his  sidling  brought 
him  within  fair  arm-sweep  of  Red  Kane.  For  the  sen 
tence  had  barely  reached  its  period  when  Red,  risking  a 
shot  from  Kansas,  added  his  punctuation  mark. 

"  I'll  teach  yuh !  "  Red  grated  between  clenched  teeth, 
as  his  hard  knuckles  flattened  the  man's  nose.  "  I'll  teach 
yuh  how  to  talk!" 


CHAPTER   EIGHTEEN 

AN    ACCIDENT? 

THE  man  went  down  beneath  Red's  attack  with  a  grunt 
and  a  "  Whuff!  "  For  Red,  while  the  other  was  falling, 
drove  his  fist  into  the  unguarded  stomach.  Once  the 
man  was  flat  Red  knelt  upon  the  squirming  body  and 
whaled  away  two-handed. 

They  pried  Red  off  at  last,  of  course.  But  not  before 
he  had  appreciably  altered  the  contours  of  the  stranger's 
face.  Nor  must  it  be  supposed  that  Red  was  idle  while 
they  wrenched  him  away  from  his  prey.  He  continued 
to  work  fists  and  feet  with  whole-hearted  enthusiasm  to 
the  end  that  by  the  time  he  lay  prostrate  and  helpless 
beneath  the  combined  weight  of  Rule,  Kansas  and  Shorty, 
every  single  gentleman  present  was  aware  that  he  had 
been  in  a  fight. 

Especially  did  the  stranger  friends  of  the  stranger 
sheriff  realize  this.  The  one  with  the  twisted  nose  sat 
on  the  ground  and  nursed  a  kneecap  that  had  stopped 
Red's  heel.  The  other  was  experimenting  with  a  loos 
ened  tooth  and  wondering  how  soon  his  left  eye  would 
completely  close. 

"Uncle!"  wheezed  Red.  "  Get  offa  me,  will  yuh? 
I  ain't  no  bench !  Get  off !  I  said  '  Uncle ! '  How  many 
times  yuh  want  me  to  say  it?  " 

"  Lookit  here,  Red,"  Jake  Rule  said  earnestly,  "  I  don't 
want  no  more  trouble  with  you,  y'understand.  You  gim 
me  yore  word  not  to  start  no  more  fusses,  an'  I'll  let  you 
up.  If  yuh  don't,  I'll  tie  you  up." 


An   Accident  ?  165 

"  I'll  be  good  just  so  long  as  '  Snicklefritz  '  there  or 
anybody  else  o'  you  chunkers  is  careful  o'  their  language 
or  don't  try  to  ride  me.  I  won't  be  good  a  second  longer, 
an'  you  can  gamble  on  that." 

"  I'll  answer  for  them  other  fellers,"  said  the  sheriff. 
"  They  won't  horn  in  again." 

"  Then  I  won't.  Lemme  get  up,  will  yuh  ?  How  do 
yuh  guess  I'm  gonna  breathe  with  yore  knee  in  my  stum- 
mick?  You'd  oughta  dull  up  that  knee,  Sheriff.  She's 
too  sharp.  Kansas,  if  yo're  aimin'  to  take  out  a  claim 
on  that  leg  o'  mine,  would  yuh  mind  movin'  higher  up? 
My  foot's  asleep." 

"  Better  gimme  that  knife  an'  the  dime  before  yuh  get 
up,  Red,"  advised  the  sheriff.  "  Kansas,  did  you  get  his 
gun?" 

"  I'm  gettin'  it  now,"  replied  the  deputy.  "  I'm  takin' 
his  derringer  too." 

"  Hey,  leave  my  guns  be !  "  bawled  Red.  "  I  ain't 
gonna  do  nothin'  with  them  guns,  but  I  like  the  feel  of 
'em  on  me.  Leave  'em  alone,  Kansas." 

"  Kansas  will  take  good  care  o'  yore  guns,"  soothed 
the  sheriff.  "  An'  you'll  get  'em  back  before  we  leave. 
But  just  now,  Red,,  you  ain't  no  man  to  trust  with  fire 
arms.  Not  by  a  jugful,  you  ain't.  Yuh  needn't  try  to 
bite  me  neither.  Yore  teeth  can't  reach.  About  that 
knife  an'  the  dime,  Red  —  hand  'em  over." 

"  Shore  I  will  if  yuh  feel  that  way  about  it.  That  is, 
if  I  can  pick  'em  out  o'  myself,  I  will.  Them  things  are 
in  a  front  pocket,  an'  the  longer  you  sit  on  me  the  harder 
they  take  root.  Nemmine  fishin'  in  my  pockets,  Sheriff, 
if  it's  alia  same  to  you.  I'll  get  'em  for  yuh  myself." 

They  let  him  up  at  that,  and  he  handed  the  broken 
jackknife  and  the  dime  to  Sheriff  Rule. 

"  I  s'pose  Bill  Derr  told  yuh  I  had  'em,  huh  ?  "  hazarded 
Red,  not  pleased  that  his  friend  should  have  betrayed  him. 

"  He  didn't  say  nothin'  about  'em,"  said  the  sheriff. 


1 66  Lynch    Lawyers 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  him,  too,  after  I  heard  Galloway's  kid 
gassin'  about  it,  but  Bill  had  went  south  again.  Gallo 
way's  kid  said  yuh  wouldn't  say  where  you  found  'em. 
Where  did  yuh  find  'em,  anyway  ?  " 

"  Galloway's  kid  is  still  right,"  maintained  Red,  who, 
finding  that  he  had  misjudged  Bill  Derr,  was  naturally 
more  ruffled  in  spirit  than  ever. 

"  Are  you  tryin'  to  run  against  the  law?  "  demanded 
the  sheriff. 

"Who?  Me?  Me  run  against  the  law?  Yo're 
talkin'  foolish.  Listen,  Jake.  Listen  hard.  I  — " 

"  Better  tell  him,"  interrupted  the  low  voice  of  Miss 
Lorimer.  c'  There's  no  sense  in  being  stubborn,  Red. 
You  won't  gain  a  thing,  not  a  thing." 

"  All  right,"  Red  said  shortly,  and  told  the  sheriff  what 
he  wished  to  know. 

"Between  the  corral  an'  the  office,  huh?"  said  the 
sheriff.  "  That'll  be  good,  that  will.  Kansas,  I  wish 
you'd  lemme  see  that  piece  o'  knife-blade  yuh  got  from 
Buck  Saylor." 

The  sheriff  took  the  piece  of  steel  from  his  deputy, 
opened  the  jackknife  and  placed  the  broken  parts  end  to 
end.  Red  crowded  in  closer. 

"  They  don't  fit,"  the  sheriff  said  disgustedly. 

But  Red  knew  that  when  he  made  the  same  experiment 
in  the  Farewell  express  office,  they  fitted  perfectly. 

"  That  busted-off  piece  belonged  to  a  bigger  knife," 
averred  Red,  willing  to  go  that  far  but  no  further. 

"  Shore,"  asserted  the  sheriff.  "  The  busted-off  piece 
is  a  eighth  inch  wider  an'  a  mite  thicker.  An'  I  was 
lookin'  for  a  good  healthy  clue  out  o'  this !  Well,  maybe 
somethin'  else'll  turn  up.  Kansas,  take  care  o'  these 
here,  will  yuh?  Better  wrap  'em  up  in  somethin'.  I 
don't  wanna  run  no  risk  o'  losin'  'em,  an'  that  dime  could 
be  special  easy  lost." 

Jake  Rule  looked  over  his  shoulder  at  the  three  stran- 


An   Accident?  167 


gers.     So,  with  a  start,  did  Red.     He  had  forgotten  them 
for  the  moment.     Which  was  unwise. 

The  pig-eyed  sheriff,  who  had,  regained  his  wind,  had 
foregathered  with  his  two  comrades  at  one  side.  They 
stood,  a  grumpy  trio,  and  muttered  among  themselves. 
Miss  Lorimer  was  unconcernedly  darning  a  sock. 

Sheriff  Rule  went  close  to  her. 

"  Miss,"  said  he,  "  I  don't  wanna  have  to  ask  you  again 
where  yore  pa  is." 

"  Very  well,  don't,"  was  the  tranquil  reply.  "  You 
won't  make  me  mad." 

What  was  there  to  be  done  with  such  a  girl?  The 
sheriff  didn't  know.  He  tilted  his  hat  and  scratched  a 
perplexed  head. 

Miss  Lorimer  laughed  and  gathered  up  her  socks  and 
darning-basket.  She  rose  to  her  feet  and  walked  toward 
the  house. 

"  While  you're  wonderin'  what  to  do  next,"  she  said  to 
the  accompaniment  of  a  demure  glance  at  Jake  Rule, 
"  suppose  you  come  in  the  house  and  have  some  coffee  and 
doughnuts." 

"  Doughnuts !  "  repeated  the  sheriff,  his  mouth  water 
ing.  He  had  not  tasted  a  doughnut  in  years.  Mrs.  Rule 
was  not  an  all-round  cook.  "  Doughnuts!  "  he  repeated 
a  second  time.  "  That's  shore  clever  of  yuh.  They'll  go 
good  while  —  while  we're  waitin'.  Say,  Red,  nemmine 
edgin'  over  toward  the  corral.  You  ain't  goin'  ridin' 
now.  Yo're  gonna  eat  with  us." 

"  I  only  wanted  to  look  at  my  hoss,"  said  Red,  return 
ing  slowly. 

"  Yeah,  I  know.  But  yore  hoss  is  all  right.  You 
c'mon  in  with  us." 

So  saying,  the  sheriff  hooked  his  arm  through  Red's 
and  bore  him  within.  Once  indoors  Red  continued  to 
augment  the  gayety  of  nations. 

When  the  stranger  sheriff  pulled  out  a  chair  and  sat 


1 68  Lynch   Lawyers 

down  at  the  table,  Red  immediately  kicked  back  his  own 
chair  and  stood  up.  Miss  Lorimer  was  not  in  the  kitchen. 
She  and  Kansas  had  gone  out  to  fill  the  coffeepot  and  fetch 
firewood.  Red  would  have  convoyed  the  lady,  but  the 
sheriff  had  demurred.  He  was  taking  no  chances  with 
either  of  them. 

"  I'm  kind  o'  particular  what  I  eat  with,"  Red  said 
nastily.  "  An'  I'm  free  to  admit  that  I  think  this  thing's 
two  friends  are  skunks  too." 

"  By !  "  exclaimed  the  first  person  referred  to. 

"  I  ain't  gonna  stand  this  no  longer." 

Red  leaned  across  the  table  and  stuck  his  face  within  a 
foot  of  the  other's  swollen  countenance. 

"  What  are  yuh  gonna  do  about  it  ?  "  he  demanded. 
"  I  ain't  got  no  gun,  or  I'd  shore  admire  to  talk  to  you 
proper.  But,  if  you'll  come  outside  again,  I'll  do  the  best 
I  can  with  my  hands  an'  feet.  I'll  take  yuh  two  at  a  time 
if  one  o'  yore  friends  wants  to  chip  in.  No,  I'll  do  bet- 
ter'n  that!  I'll  take  the  three  o'  yuh.  There  y'are. 
They's  a  proposition  for  a  reasonable  man.  Leave  yore 
artillery  in  here,  an'  the  four  of  us  can  hop  out  an'  settle 
our  li'l  argument  in  less'n  no  time.  Whatsa  matter? 
Whadda  yuh  want  me  to  do?  Tie  one  o'  my  hands  be 
hind  my  back  or  somethin'  ?  " 

The  man  with  the  jutting  beard  stood  up  and  unbuckled 
his  belt. 

"  I'll  go  yuh,"  he  told  Red.  "  I'll  tramp  on  yore  guts 
with  both  feet,  that's  what  I'll  do." 

"  Naw,  yuh  won't !  "  cried  Jake  Rule,  springing  to  his 
feet  and  pounding  the  table  with  his  fist.  "  They  won't 
be  no  more  fightin'  round  here  for  a  while.  Sheriff,  you 
sit  down.  Red,  you  too." 

"  I  notice,"  remarked  Red,  dragging  his  chair  to  the 
wall  before  sitting  down,  "  I  notice  that  stranger  sheriff 
man  didn't  even  start  to  get  up  till  after  you  said  they'd 
be  no  more  fightin',  Jake.  Is  he  a  friend  o'  yores  ?  " 


An   Accident?  169 

"  Shut  up,  Red,  will  yuh  ?  This  ain't  no  time  for 
jokin'." 

"  I  ain't  jokin',"  denied  Red.  "  I'm  serious  as  lead  in 
yore  innards.  I  don't  wonder  yo're  ashamed  to  call  him 
yore  friend.  I  would  be,  too.  Do  I  have  to  stay  in  here, 
Sheriff,  an'  breathe  the  same  air  him  an'  his  two  friends 
are  makin'  free  with  ?  As  I  done  told  yuh,  Jake,  I'm  kind 
o'  particular,  an'  I  won't  never  be  contented  in  the  same 
room  with  them  three  tinhorns.  I  wish  you'd  lemme 
have  my  gun  for  a  couple  o'  minutes.  I'd  show  yuh 
somethin'." 

"  Let  him  have  his  gun,  Sheriff,"  urged  the  man  with 
the  jutting  beard.  "  I'm  kind  o'  curious  about  this  jig 
ger.  He  may  be  a  ace  like  he  says,  an'  then  again  he  may 
be  a  two-spot.  I'd  like  to  find  out." 

"  Yo're  brayin'  thataway  'cause  yuh  know  he  won't 
gimme  my  gun !  "  cried  Red  in  a  rage.  "  Jake,"  he  con 
tinued,  beseechingly,  "  I'll  give  you  one  hundred  dollars 
for  my  gun." 

"  You  can't  have  yore  gun  till  I  get  good  an'  ready  to 
give  it  to  yuh,"  returned  the  sheriff.  "  I  told  yuh  so  once, 
an'  that's  enough." 

The  stranger  sheriff  flung  a  meaningful  glance  at  his 
two  friends.  The  one  with  the  twisted  nose  promptly 
sat  back  in  his  chair,  stretched  his  legs  out  in  front  of 
him  and,  his  eyes  on  the  ceiling,  began  to  whistle.  The 
man  with  the  jutting  beard  resumed  his  seat,  took  out  a 
penknife  and  began  to  trim  his  finger  nails. 

The  stranger  sheriff  slumped  sidewise  in  his  chair, 
put  up  a  right  hand  and  slowly  scratched  his  Adam's 
apple.  Jake  Rule  turned  to  look  out  of  the  window.  At 
which  psychological  moment  the  right  hand  of  the 
stranger  sheriff  flipped  under  his  vest.  It  flipped  out 
again  as  speedily.  There  was  a  flash  and  a  roar  and  a 
bluster  of  smoke  and  a  .45  bullet  splintered  a  round  in  the 
back  of  Red's  chair.  Red  was  not  in  the  chair  at  the  time. 


170  Lynch   Lawyers 

He  had  hurled  his  body  to  the  floor  at  the  first  jerk  of 
the  other  man's  hand. 

Jake  Rule  whirled  round  to  find  Red  Kane  sitting  on 
the  floor  and  the  stranger  sheriff  wearing  a  most  bewil 
dered  expression  and  looking  at  a  six-shooter  that  lay  on 
the  table  in  front  of  him. 

"If  that  ain't  the  most  careless  thing  I  ever  done,"  he 
said  penitently.  "  Here  I  go  to  take  the  gun  out  o'  my 
shoulder  holster  an'  my  hand  slips  an'  the  gun  goes  off 
an'  damn  near  shoots  the  gent  sittin'  on  the  floor.  Mister 
Man,  I'm  shore  sorry.  I  wouldn't  'a'  had  no  accident 
happen  to  you  for  anythin'." 

"  No,"  Red  remarked  with  deep  feeling,  "  I  guess  you 
wouldn't.  I  —  guess  —  you  —  wouldn't.  I  s'pose  now 
I  was  lucky  to  fall  out  o'  my  chair." 

"  Shore  you  was,"  said  the  other,  returning  the  six- 
shooter  to  the  holster  under  his  armpit.  "  I  dunno  when 
you  was  ever  so  lucky." 

"  See  what  yore  takin'  away  my  gun  almost  does, 
Jake!  "  Red  complained  bitterly.  "  If  you  won't  gimme 
my  gun  back  so's  I  can  take  care  o'  myself,  then  you  keep 
yore  eyes  skinned  on  these  sharps.  I  don't  aim  to  be 
wiped  out." 

"  It  was  a  accident,  Red,"  said  the  sheriff,  determined 
to  put  a  good  face  on  the  matter. 

"  Oh,  shore.  Jake,  yo're  a  damfool,  none  dammer ! 
Stranger,  why  for  did  yuh  pull  that  gun  anyway?  " 

"  I  wanted  to  see  if  she  was  loaded,"  was  the  brazen 
reply. 

'  Yuh  found  out,  didn't  yuh  ?  Now  you  listen,  Sheriff 
No-Name.  When  you'n  me  meet  again  you  come  a- 
shootin',  'cause  I'll  be  doin'  the  same." 

"  I'll  try  to  remember,"  said  the  other  gravely. 

Jake  Rule  scratched  his  chin  and  looked  doubtfully  at 
the  three  strangers. 

"  Shorty,"  said  he,  "  did  you  see  this  —  accident?  " 


An  Accident?  171 

"  No,  Sheriff,  I  didn't.  I  was  a-lookin'  out  the  door. 
I  heard  the  shot,  though,  an'  I  seen  the  smoke." 

"  Oh,  yuh  did,"  put  in  Red  with  sarcastic  scorn.  "  Are 
you  shore  ?  " 

"  Well  —  "  began  Shorty,  who  was  not  accustomed  to 
thinking  quickly. 

"  It  was  a  accident,  Sheriff,"  the  man  with  the  jutting 
beard  asserted  smoothly.  "  I  saw  the  whole  thing." 

"  Shore,"  supplemented  Twisty  Nose.  "  I  was  lookin' 
right  at  the  sheriff.  Accident!  I  should  say  so!  This 
here  red-headed  gent  is  shore  a-boardin'  the  wrong  hoss 
when  he  says  different." 

"  Meanin'  I'm  a  liar,  huh?"  rapped  out  Red,  the  al 
lusion  to  his  hair  adding  fresh  fuel  to  the  blaze  of  his 
wrath.  "  Aw  right,  what  I  told  yore  sheriff  friend  goes 
for  you  too." 

"  Why  leave  me  out  ?  "  asked  Jutting  Beard. 

"  We  aim  to  please,  feller.  Yo're  welcome  to  help  yore 
two  friends  all  you  like.  Come  a-runnin',  the  lot  o'  yuh. 
You  —  " 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  Who's  shot  ?  Who  —  "  Miss 
Lorimer,  followed  by  Kansas  Casey,  darted  into  the 
kitchen  and  stood  panting,  her  black  eyes  fixed  anxiously 
on  Red  Kane. 

"  It's  all  right,"  replied  Red  easily.  "  Gent  got  a  li'l 
careless,  thassall.  Nobody  hurt." 

"Oh,"  murmured  Miss  Lorimer.  "Oh — I  see.  Mr. 
Casey,  I  left  the  coffeepot  at  the  spring.  Will  you  get  it? 
I  think  I'm  needed  right  here  in  this  kitchen." 


CHAPTER    NINETEEN 


"  WHY  don't  you  come  sit  at  the  table  with  the  others, 
Red?"  asked  Miss  Lorimer,  looking  up  from  filling  the 
cup  of  Sheriff  Rule. 

"  I  don't  eat  with  no  polecats,"  was  the  reply. 
"  Meanin'  no  offense  to  Jake,  Kansas  or  Shorty." 

"  Lord,"  said  Miss  Lorimer  with  a  slight  laugh,  "  if 
I  can  serve  these  three  individuals  —  and  I  know  a  lot 
about  them,  too  —  you  shouldn't  object  to  eatin'  with 
them." 

"  You  know  'em  !  "  Red  looked  his  astonishment. 

"  I  know  'em  from  way  back,  and  they  know  me.  YOU 
can't  tell  me  anythin'  about  this  bunch.  Compared  with 
them,  Ananias  told  the  truth  and  Judas  was  the  soul  of 
honor.  They're  so  crooked  they  make  a  corkscrew  look 
like  the  shortest  distance  between  two  points.  Let  me 
tell  you  about  them." 

"  Ma'am,"  broke  in  Jake  Rule,  "  it  ain't  necessary.  I 
know  this  gentleman  is  Mister  Tom  Lumley,  the  Sheriff 
of  Rock  County,  Colorado,  an'  these  other  gents  are  Mis 
ter  Rouse  an'  Mister  Bruff,  his  two  deputies.  What 
more  —  " 

"  There's  a  lot  more,"  interrupted  the  lady.  "  You've 
no  idea  how  much,  really.  Oh,  it's  no  bother,  Sheriff.  I 
don't  mind  tellin'  you.  In  fact,  I'd  rather  enjoy  it. 
What's  the  matter,  Mr.  Lumley?  Isn't  that  chair  com 
fortable?  You're  not  goin'  outside,  are  you,  Billy  Bruff? 


"Ridin'   'Em"  173 

You're  gettin'  shy  all  of  a  sudden,  aren't  you?  Surely 
you  can't  be  afraid  of  what  a  girl  says,  Dune  Rouse.  I 
know  you  never  seemed  to  mind  when  '  Sniff  '  O'Neill's 
wife  used  to  come  to  your  saloon  and  beg  you  not  to  let 
Sniff  gamble  in  your  place.  And  you  used  to  get  Sniff 
drunk  so  he  would.  Sniff's  baby  died  at  Christmas  and 
Sniff's  little  girl  went  out  when  spring  came.  It  must 
have  been  a  hard  winter  in  the  O'Neill  family.  I  often 
wonder  if  Sniff's  wife  cursed  you  before  she  died." 

The  man  with  the  twisted  nose  scraped  the  floor  with 
an  uneasy  heel  and  violently  stirred  his  coffee.  He  licked 
his  lips  and  took  a  long  and  noisy  drink.  He  set  down 
the  cup,  wiped  his  mouth  on  the  back  of  his  hand,  looked 
everywhere  save  in  Miss  Lorimer's  direction  and  began 
to  build  himself  a  cigarette. 

Miss  Lorimer  kept  her  eyes  upon  him.  She  leaned 
against  the  back  of  a  chair  and  nodded  her  head  with 
satisfaction. 

"  They  say  a  dyin'  person's  curse  always  comes  true," 
she  went  on.  "  Is  that  why  your  hand's  tremblin', 
Dune?" 

"  Ain't  tremblin' ! "  snapped  the  twisty-nose  man. 
"What  I  care  for  you?" 

"  You  don't  have  to  burn  your  nose  in  order  to  show 
your  indifference,"  she  told  him,  for  Dune,  in  his  confu 
sion,  had  held  the  match  where  he  shouldn't.  "  You 
killed  Sniff,  didn't  you?  Self-defense  was  the  excuse 
you  gave.  Nobody  saw  the  killin'  except  Tom  Lumley. 
Self-defense!  And  Sniff  shot  plumb  through  the  back 
with  a  shotgun !  When  your  time  comes,  Dune,  the  devil 
will  certainly  talk  to  you.  Poor  Sniff!  I  never  could 
understand  why  you  shot  him.  He  was  so  sort  of  harm 
less  and  helpless  I  always  felt  sorry  for  him.  You  swore 
he  hit  you,  though  —  or  was  it  a  kick?  Oh,  the  nassy 
bad  canary  bird  snapped  at  Dune,  so  it  did,  and  Dune  had 
to  kill  it,  didn't  he?" 


174  Lynch   Lawyers 


Twisty  Nose  glowered  at  Miss  Lorimer  and  muttered 
under  his  breath. 

"  Say  it  out  loud,"  smiled  Miss  Lorimer.  "  I'd  enjoy 
hearin'  what  you  really  think  of  me." 

Warm-tempered  Red  crouched  and  gathered  himself. 
Another  fight  was  imminent.  But  Twisty  Nose  choked 
down  the  words  he  burningly  desired  to  utter.  His  eyes 
glowed  with  sullen  fire. 

"  Ma'am,"  said  badgered  Sheriff  Rule,  "  I'd  take  it  as 
a  favor  if  you  wouldn't  talk  no  more." 

"  You'd  take  it  as  a  favor,  would  you  ?  You'd  take  it 
as  a  favor.  I  don't  know  that  I  owe  you  any  favors. 
Whose  house  is  this,  anyway?  Did  I  ask  you  here?  I 
guess  I  can  talk  if  I  want  to.  I  don't  see  anybody  around 
here  that's  able  to  stop  me." 

"  No,  ma'am,  no.  Only  I  —  You  shut  up  now, 
ma'am,  please." 

"  Why  don't  you  gag  me  then,  if  you  don't  want  to 
listen  ?  Because  I've  got  more  to  say  —  quite  a  lot  more. 
I  haven't  mentioned  the  other  two  rascals  yet.  Of  course, 
I  know  they  ought  to  be  in  jail,  but  you  don't,  I  imagine." 

"  Yo're  a  fine  one  to  talk  about  jails,"  slipped  in  Sher 
iff  Lumley.  "  You  wait  till  we  get  our  paws  on  yore  pa. 
You  won't  talk  so  fast  about  jails.  An'  besides  you 
can't  prove  nothin'  against  me,  an'  you  know  it.  I've 
been  elected  three  terms,  an'  I  guess  now  that  shows  what 
kind  o'  standin'  I  got." 

"  It  shows  you  bought  every  election,"  flashed  the  girl. 
"  You  an'  your  gang  of  thieves  have  run  Rock  County  for 
years.  Who  was  it  stole  the  Gov'ment  beef  contracts 
away  from  the  Rafter  O?  Who  was  it  switched  five 
thousand  sacks  of  flour  on  the  Round  Mountain  Indians 
and  gave  'em  middlin's?  And  sour  middlin's  at  that. 
Who  —  " 

"  I  never !  "  interrupted  Lumley  shrilly.     "  I  didn't  —  " 

"  Who  said  you  did  ?  "  queried  Miss  Lorimer. 


"Ridin'   'Em"  175 

Lumley  subsided.     Red  Kane  laughed. 

"Lord,  Tom  Lumley,"  swept  on  Miss  Lorimer.  "I 
thought  you  had  more  sense  than  to  be  caught  by  a  trick 
like  that.  And  you  call  yourself  a  sheriff!  I  suppose 
you'll  admit  now  you  used  to  bootleg  the  Round  Mountain 
Reservation,  you  and  the  agent,  and  run  brace  games  be 
sides  for  the  Indians.  Not  content  with  stealin'  their 
grub,  you'd  rustle  their  money.  That's  playin'  both  ends 
against  the  middle,  I  guess. 

"  I  always  believed  you  had  a  hand  in  killin'  Sniff 
O'Neill,  too.  Dune  Rouse  wouldn't  have  done  it  if  you 
hadn't  put  him  up  to  it.  You  held  the  mortgage  on 
Sniff's  little  bunch  of  cattle,  didn't  you?  And  Sniff's 
wife  said  Sniff  left  home  with  the  money  to  pay  off  the 
mortgage,  and  not  two  hours  later  he  was  found  dead  in 
your  office  ?  The  money  ?  What  money  ?  Mister  Sher 
iff  Lumley  rolls  his  eyes  and  swears  he  knows  nothing  of 
any  money.  He  had  seen  no  money.  Certainly  not. 
The  mortgage?  We-ell,  of  course,  it's  too  bad,  tough  on 
Mrs.  O'Neill,  but  business  is  business,  and  Mister  Sheriff 
Lumley  took  the  cows.  It  was  two  days  later  that  Mrs. 
O'Neill  cut  her  throat  in  front  of  your  house.  When 
they  picked  her  up,  one  of  her  hands  was  resting  on  your 
doorsill  and  that  flat  stone  you  used  for  a  doorstep  was 
dyed  red. 

"  You  took  the  flat  stone  away  after  that,  didn't  you? 
The  red  wouldn't  wash  out,  would  it?  Yes,  Tommy,  I 
expect  she  cursed  you  all  right.  That's  why  she  com 
mitted  suicide  on  your  doorstep.  And  I  don't  believe 
you'll  get  rid  of  the  curse  as  easily  as  you  got  rid  of  the 
flat  stone,  either.  Do  you  ever  have  nightmare,  Tom?" 

Sheriff  Lumley's  Adam's  apple  worked  up  and  down  a 
time  or  two.  Then  he  laughed  harshly,  raggedly. 

"  Try  again,  Tom,"  urged  Miss  Lorimer.  "  That 
laugh  had  a  crack  in  it." 

"  You  can't  scare  me,"  he  told  her. 


176  Lynch   Lawyers 


"  I  wasn't  tryin'  to,"  said  she.     "  Look  at  Dune." 

The  entire  roomful  looked  at  Dune.  That  twisty- 
nosed  person  was  noticeably  pale  about  the  lips.  His 
eyes  were  glassily  bright.  He  was  constructing  a  cigarette 
and  making  heavy  weather  of  it.  Tobacco  and  torn 
papers  littered  the  table  in  front  of  him.  Even  as  the 
man  felt  the  many  pairs  of  eyes  fasten  upon  him,  his 
shaking  fingers  split  in  two  the  cigarette  they  held. 
Miss  Lorimer  laughed.  There  was  no  crack  in  her  laugh. 
It  was  clear  and  ringing  as  her  voice  when  she  said : 

"  You  should  have  educated  Dune  to  stand  ridin'  better 
than  that,  Tommy." 

Sheriff  Lumley  turned  hard  eyes  from  Dune  Rouse  to 
Sheriff  Rule.  He  saw  no  help  there.  His  gaze  slid  back 
in  the  direction  of  Miss  Lorimer,  passed  her  and  came  to 
rest  on  the  empty  coffee  cup  in  front  of  him.  Ostenta 
tiously  he  rattled  the  spoon  in  the  cup. 

"  Any  coffee  left,"  he  grunted. 

"  I'm  makin'  some  more,"  said  the  girl.  "  Give  the 
water  a  chance  to  boil,  can't  you  ?  " 

Red  Kane  looked  at  the  stove.  His  forehead  puckered. 
Plainly  he  was  searching  for  an  elusive  thought.  What 
ever  the  thought  it  remained  elusive  for  the  moment. 

Miss  Lorimer  smiled  and  looked  upon  Billy  Bruff  with 
speculation  in  her  eye.  The  gentleman  with  the  jutting 
beard  avoided  her  stare.  It  might  almost  be  said  that 
he  dodged  it.  But  all  to  no  purpose. 

"  Have  you  still  got  that  horse  you  stole  from  the  Two 
Bars?"  inquired  Miss  Lorimer  to  the  accompaniment 
of  rattling  stovelids  as  she  put  in  more  wood. 

"  I  dunno  what  yo're  talkin'  about,"  averred  Billy 
Bruff. 

"  Of  course  you  don't.  How  silly  of  me.  I  don't 
mean  the  horse.  I  mean  the  horses.  Twenty-four  of 
them,  weren't  there?  At  least  the  Two  Bars  went  shy 
that  many.  You  ran  'em  off  one  moonlight  night,  hair- 


"Ridin'    'Em"  177 


branded  'em  and  sold  them  to  Cram  and  Docket  over  in 
Piegan  City.  Wasn't  that  the  way  of  it?  I  heard  so, 
at  least." 

"  You  heard  wrong."  Mr.  BrufFs  tone  was  most  em 
phatic. 

"  Funny.  My  hearin's  fine.  A  Number  One.  I 
heard  somethin'  else  too,  William.  They  say  Bruff  isn't 
your  real  name  at  all  —  that  it  used  to  be  Smith  or  Jones 
over  west  where  you  came  from  —  California,  wasn't 
it?" 

"  I  never  been  west  o'  the  Bitter  Roots,"  said  Mr. 
Bruff. 

"  No?  "  And  oh,  her  voice  was  honey-sweet.  "  No? 
Were  you  ever  at  Fort  Rackham,  Idaho?  " 

"No!" 

"  You  didn't  have  anythin'  to  do  with  the  shootin'  of 
the  post  trader  there,  did  you?  No,  of  course  not.  How 
could  you  if  you  were  never  in  Idaho?  And,  if  you  were 
never  in  Idaho,  you  couldn't  possibly  have  deserted  from 
the  Third  Cavalry  when  it  was  stationed  at  Fort  Rack- 
ham.  You  don't  know  that  five  troops  of  the  Third  are 
stationed  at  Fort  Yardley  now,  do  you?  " 

Billy  BrufFs  eyes  flickered  in  spite  of  himself.  But 
his  voice  was  steady  enough  as  he  said : 

"  Whadda  I  care  about  the  Third  Cavalry  or  any  other 
Cavalry  ?  I  never  was  in  the  army.  I  think  yo're  talkin' 
like  a  —  '  He  failed  to  complete  the  sentence. 

"  Go  on,"  she  nodded.     "  '  Like  a  what  ? ' 

"  I  don't  call  no  women  names,"  was  the  reply. 

Red's  tense  frame  relaxed. 

"  That's  right  noble  of  you,  Bill,"  said  Miss  Lorimer, 
with  a  scornful  lift  of  her  upper  lip.  "  I  didn't  think  you 
had  it  in  you.  How  much  were  you  paid  to  kill  the  post 
trader?" 

"  She's  crazy,"  declared  Billy  Bruff.  "Crazy  as  a 
'June  bug." 


178  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  Am  I  ?  We'll  see.  Suppose  I  drop  a  word  to  the 
commandin'  officer  at  Yardley  that  Sam  Reynolds,  ser 
geant  in  K  troop,  who  deserted  at  Fort  Rackham,  is  a 
deputy  sheriff  in  Rock  County,  Colorado.  What  then, 
my  bouncin'  boy,  what  then  ?  " 

"  Fly  at  it,"  said  Billy  Bruff. 

Red  looked  hard  at  the  man.  There  was  a  restless,  un 
easy  aspect  about  him.  To  be  sure  there  was.  No  doubt 
of  it.  To  Red's  mind  Billy  Bruff  appeared  positively 
hang-dog.  But  it  is  to  be  feared  that  Red  was  somewhat 
prejudiced.  Prejudiced  or  not,  Red  felt  an  overpower 
ing  urge  to  say  what  he  thought. 

"  I'll  bet  you  was  a  Long  Knife  all  right,"  he  ob 
served.  "  An'  desertin'  is  just  what  you  would  do,  y'bet 
yuh." 

"  Yo're  a  liar,"  declared  the  sunny-tempered  Bill. 
"  Yo're  a  liar  by  the  clock." 

"  Callin'  me  a  liar  once  was  enough.  I  heard  yuh  the 
first  time.  I'm  sorry,  once  more,  I  ain't  got  no  gun. 
But  I'll  be  havin'  a  gun  after  a  while,  an'  then  maybe 
you'n  me  can  argue  it  out.  We  was  goin'  to,  anyway, 
wasn't  we?  " 

"  Kind  o'  forgot  that,  huh?  "  sneered  Billy  Bruff. 

"  No-o,"  drawled  Red,  "  I  didn't  forget  it.  I  got  a 
right  good  memory  —  a  right  good  memory.  I  can  re 
member  word  for  word  just  about  every  thin'  I  heard  here 
this  afternoon.  An'  I  won't  forget  none  of  it  neither. 
I'll  stuff  her  down  in  the  li'l  ol'  memory  all  same  salt  in  a 
bag  an'  maybe  some  day  it'll  all  come  in  useful.  Yuh 
can't  tell.  Yore  bein'  a  deserter  now.  That's  mighty 
interestin'.  I  dunno  when  I  heard  anythin'  to  make  me 
sit  up  an'  take  notice  so  much  as  that.  An'  yore  killin' 
the  post  trader,  too. 

"  Tell  by  yore  face  yo're  some  brand  o'  criminal.  I 
seen  a  hoss-thief  hung  once,  an'  he  looked  like  yuh.  An* 
I  seen  a  murderer  lynched  —  killed  a  woman,  he  did  — 


"Ridin'   'Em"  179 

an'  he  looked  like  yuh.  Then  they  was  Bert  Kenny  right 
in  our  own  home  town.  He  was  a  tinhorn  —  skin  yuh 
out  o'  two-bits.  Yeah,  he  was  that  cheap.  He  tried  to 
rob  Mike  Flynn's  store  one  night,  an'  Mike  gave  him  both 
barrels  of  a  Greener  loaded  with  buckshot.  An'  he  looked 
like  yuh  —  before  he  was  shot.  Them  buckshot  sort  o' 
mussed  his  features  after.  Don't  you  see  the  resem 
blance  to  Bert,  Kansas?  Some  shifty  li'l  eyes,  set  close 
like  a  hawg's,  same  no-'count  turn-up  nose,  same  funny- 
lookin'  frowsy  set  o'  whiskers,  same  stick-out  an'  stick-up 
ears,  an'  same  —  open  yore  mouth,  feller.  I  wanna  see 
if  yore  teeth  are  like  Bert's." 

"  For  a  thin  dime  —  "  began  Billy  BrufT. 
,  "  You'd  slit  my  gizzard,"  supplied  Red  Kane.  "  I 
know  yuh'd  like  to.  But  we  was  talkin'  about  Bert 
Kenny.  He  used  to  drum  nervous  on  a  table  with  his 
fingers  like  yo're  doin'  now.  What  yuh  stop  for?  I 
don't  mind.  An'  he  used  to  work  his  jaw-muscles  in  an' 
out  like  yo're  doin'  too.  An'  stingy!  Lordy,  feller, 
Bert  was  too  stingy  to  buy  another  man  a  drink.  An' 
mean !  Honest,  I  guess  this  Bert  Kenny  even  hated  him 
self.  Kind  o'  tough  he  had  to  go  an'  get  shot,  'cause  you 
an'  him  would  'a'  got  along  together  great.  Yo're  so 
much  alike." 

"  In  a  minute  you'll  be  sayin'  I  was  shot  like  this  Bert 
Kenny,"  said  Billy  BrufT  contemptuously. 

"  I  won't  be  sayin'  that  yet,"  smiled  Red.  "  But  I  hope 
to  later.  I  shore  would  like  to  dirty  up  clean  lead  in 
you." 

"Ain't  you  runnin'  up  quite  a  bill,  young  feller?" 
Sheriff  Lumley  cut  in  with  a  Uplifting  sneer. 

"  An'  how  long  have  you  been  out  o'  jail?  "  flashed  the 
retort  courteous.  "  An'  who  gave  you  license  to  horn  in 
on  my  conversation?  S'pose  I  am  talkin'  to  a  polecat, 
you  keep  still.  When  I  get  ready  to  talk  to  you,  I'll  let 
yuh  know,  sport,  I'll  let  yuh  know.  Lordy,  here  comes 


180  Lynch   Lawyers 


'  Telescope  '  Laguerre,  Loudon  an'  Tom.     I  wonder  what 
they  want  ?  " 

Whatever  the  three  wanted  they  obviously  wanted  it  in 
a  hurry.  Their  right  arms  were  quirting  incessantly. 
Tom  Kane  was  working  his  quirt  cross-handed.  The 
three  horses  were  racing  like  frightened  deer. 

Thuddy-thud,  thuddy-thud,  they  dusted  in  between  the 
corral  and  the  ranch-house  and  skittered  to  a  halt  in 
front  of  the  kitchen  door.  Tom  Kane  was  first  through 
the  doorway. 

"  He  —  "  he  began  —  "  shucks,"  he  finished,  out  of 
deference  to  Miss  Lorimer,  and  slid  his  revolver  back  into 
the  holster.  "  I  didn't  know  it  was  the  sheriff.  When 
Riley  told  me  he  seen  a  bunch  o'  riders  headin'  this  way, 
I  just  cinched  a  hull  on  the  li'l  hoss,  picked  up  Telescope 
an'  Tom  Loudon  down  at  'Bill  Lainey's  an'  come  a- 
runnin'.  I  thought  shore  the  88  would  be  here,"  he 
added  disappointedly,  looking  about  him  as  if  he  half 
expected  an  88  adherent  to  pop  from  a  place  of  con 
cealment. 

"  I'm  sorry  they  ain't  here,  Tom,"  said  Red.  "  But 
these  three  gents  are  almost  as  good."  He  indicated  with 
a  sweep  of  his  thumb  Sheriff  Lumley  and  his  two  friends. 
"  They  been  amusin'  us  a  lot,"  he  went  on.  "  I  seen  a 
monkey  eatin'  peanuts  once,  but  these  jiggers  are  fun 
nier  than  that." 

:<  Yeah,"  said  Tom,  who,  quick  to  take  a  cue,  was  eying 
with  lively  interest  the  three  providers  of  entertainment. 
"Can  they  do  tricks?" 

Telescope  Laguerre  and  Mr.  Saltoun's  son-in-law  and 
foreman,  Tom  Loudon,  nodded  gravely  to  the  men  they 
knew  and  took  off  their  hats  to  Miss  Lorimer.  Loudon 
winked  at  Red  Kane.  The  latter  stuck  his  tongue  in  his 
cheek  and  winked  back. 

"  I  dunno  who  you  are,"  Sheriff  Lumley  said  to  Tom 
Kane,  "  but  if  you  want  trouble,  here  is  where  it's  made." 


"Ridin'    'Em"  181 

"  I've  heard  talk  like  that  before  —  lots  o'  times,"  Tom 
told  him.  "  I  ain't  dead  yet." 

"  You  will  be  if  you  start  gettin'  smoky,  Tom,"  hastily 
nipped  in  Jake  Rule.  "  You  wasn't  here  when  I  said  they 
ain't  gonna  be  no  fightin'  round  this  shack  to-day.  You 
know  me,  an'  I'm  tellin'  all  you  gents  if  they's  any  shootin' 
to  be  done  I'll  do  it,  an'  I'll  do  it  first." 

"  Which  is  good  English  an'  can  be  understood  by  most 
any  one,"  confirmed  Tom.  "  But  I  wasn't  thinkin'  o' 
nothin'  like  that.  I'm  here  to  help  out  Red,  thassall. 
What's  happened  to  yore  gun,  Red  ?  " 

"  Ask  the  sheriff."     Red  nodded  toward  Jake  Rule. 

"  He'll  get  it  back  later,"  said  Jake.  "  But  he  —  he 
got  gay  an'  I  hadda  take  it  away  from  him." 

Involuntarily  Jake's  eyes  wandered  in  the  direction 
of  Sheriff  Lumley.  Tom  Kane's  eyes  followed  the 
other's  glance. 

"  I  was  wonderin'  what  happened  to  the  fat  feller's 
face,"  Tom  observed  with  delight.  "  An'  that  other 
feller's  got  a  right  black  eye.  He  don't  look  like  he 
could  see  out  of  it  none.  Didn't  you  have  no  help  a-tall, 
Red?" 

"  Not  a  smidgin'.  Done  it  all  myself.  I'd  'a'  done  a 
better  job,  only  Jake  an'  Kansas  an'  Shorty  stopped  me 
before  I'd  more'n  begun.  They're  willin'  —  the  three 
sharps,  I  mean  —  to  shoot  it  out  some  other  time." 

"  They're  willin',  huh?  That's  good  — What?  The 
three  of  'em  against  you  alone?  Now  that's  what  I  call 
real  generous.  They's  nothin'  mean  about  them.  Oh, 
no.  But  I'm  in  on  this  deal,  too,  an'  don't  yuh  forget 
it." 

"I'm  goin'  outside,"  snarled  Billy  Bruff.  "They's 
too  many  folks  in  here  to  suit  me." 

"Yo're  right,"  answered  Tom  Kane.  "I'll  go  out 
with  you." 

But  Sheriff  Rule  had  something  to  say  to  that.     Mem- 


i  8  2  Lynch   Lawyers 

bers  of  opposing  factions  could  not  walk  abroad  together. 
Billy  Bruff  went  out  alone. 

Within  sixty  seconds  he  returned  on  the  jump. 

"  She's  signalin' !  "  he  bawled  insanely,  pointing  at  Miss 
Lo rimer.  "  She's  signalin'  with  smoke  from  that 
stove!" 

"  Did  you  just  find  it  out?  "  queried  Miss  Lorimer  as 
she  sank  into  the  chair  vacated  by  Red.  "  You  purblind 
idiot,"  she  continued,  tilting  back  against  the  wall,  and 
hooking  her  heels  on  a  rung.  "I've  been  signalin'  ever 
since  I  lit  the  fire.  You  see,  the  breeze  dropped  after  you 
arrived.  I  asked  you  in  for  coffee  soon's  I  noticed  it. 
Dad's  miles  away  by  this  time.  Oh,  miles  and  miles. 
Clever,  wasn't  I  ?  " 

She  clasped  her  hands  behind  her  pretty  head  and 
laughed  up  into  the  dismayed  faces  belonging  to  Law  and 
Order. 

"  Done !  "  yelped  Tom  Kane  and  slapped  his  knee. 
"  Done  by  a  girl!  Ain't  you  the  bright  lads?  " 

"  And  you  never  guessed  why  I  talked  so  much,  did 
you  ?  "  smiled  Miss  Lorimer.  "  I  suppose  you  thought  I 
was  telling  you  about  yourselves  just  for  fun.  That 
would  have  been  foolish.  I  wouldn't  waste  my  breath. 
You  backed  me  up  wonderfully  with  your  talkin',"  she 
appended  to  Red's  address.  "I  didn't  think  you'd 
catch  on." 

"  I  didn't,"  he  acknowledged,  "  till  I  seen  yuh  put  on 
green  wood  an'  a  hunk  o'  sod  the  third  time.  Then  I 
knowed.  Lordy,  Jake,  don't  look  so  sad.  This  ain't  the 
first  time  you  been  razzledazzled,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Nor  it  won't  be  the  last,"  contributed  Tom.  "  Jake, 
the  drinks  are  on  you." 

To  judge  by  their  malevolent  expressions,  the  drinks 
were  likewise  on  the  Rock  County  gentlemen.  There 
was  black  murder  in  the  three  pairs  of  eyes  riveted  on 
Miss  Lorimer. 


«Ridin'   'Em"  183 

Red  rose  and  stood  in  front  of  her.  Seeing  which, 
Tom  sidled  up  and  added  his  lean  bulk  to  the  barrier. 

"  Might's  well  go  back,  I  s'pose,"  suggested  Shorty 
Rumbold. 

"No,"  decided  Jake  Rule,  "we'll  wait  here  till  to 
morrow  mornin'.  Maybe  them  signals  wasn't  seen." 

"  Don't  lose  any  sleep  over  those  signals  not  bein' 
seen,"  said  Miss  Lorimer.  "  They  were,  never  doubt  it. 
If  you  want  to  stay,  stay  by  all  means.  But  would  you 
mind  sendin'  Lumley  and  his  friends  outside  ?  Now  that. 
I'm  through  usin'  'em,  I  don't  want  'em  in  my  kitchen 
any  longer." 

"  Plenty  o'  time,"  said  Lumley,  hitching  his  chair  close 
to  the  table.  "  Plenty  o'  time,  girl.  S'pose  yore  father 
has  sloped;  I  guess  now  he  didn't  take  the  money  with 
him.  You  can  tell  us  where  that  is,  an'  maybe  we  won't 
arrest  you." 

"  Maybe  ?  "  sneered  Red.  "  Did  I  hear  you  say  '  may 
be  '?  I  did  hear  you  say  '  maybe.'  Tom,  I  don't  believe 
he  means  it.  I  don't  believe  he  means  that '  arrest '  word 
neither.  Whadda  you  guess?  " 

"  I  guess  yo're  right,"  averred  the  pugnacious  Tom. 

"  If  I  decide  to  arrest  her  as  a  witness,  I  guess  it'll  be 
all  right,"  declared  Jake  Rule. 

"  Shore  it  will  —  if  you  decide  to,"  declared  Red  cheer 
fully.  "  But  you  ain't  gonna  decide  to.  You  ain't  got 
no  warrant  for  her,  have  yuh?  " 

"  I  ain't,"  admitted  Jake.     "  But  —  " 

"Then  they  ain't  no  'buts',  Jake,  nary  a  'but.'  Naw- 
sir.  Lordy,  man,  you  ain't  gonna  arrest  a  lady  just 
'cause  this  mangy  dog  of  a  Rock  County  sheriff  wants  yuh 
to,  are  yuh?  Since  when  have  you  been  niggerin'  for 
him?" 

This  was  the  ancient  game  of  beclouding  the  issue,  but 
it  worked  as  the  old  games  do  at  times.  Besides,  Sher 
iff  Rule  was  losing  his  erstwhile  liking  for  the  Rock 


184  Lynch   Lawyers 

County  officers.  What  Miss  Lorimer  had  said  concern 
ing  their  pasts  was  having  its  effect. 

"  I'll  bet  you  ain't  even  got  a  warrant  for  Lorimer 
neither,"  said  Red,  pursuing  his  advantage. 

"  Wrong  there,"  contradicted  Jake  Rule.  "  They's  a 
warrant  for  Lorimer  all  right,  all  legal  an'  correct." 

"  Lumley  brought  it,  huh?  " 

"  Yep." 

"  I  dunno  as  you  said  what  Lorimer's  wanted  for." 

"  Murder  —  murder  an'  robbery,"  Lumley  answered 
for  the  other  sheriff  and  smacked  his  fat  lips  spitefully. 

"  Which  one  o'  yore  friends  really  done  it,  Lumley?  " 
Red  drawled  in  a  soft  and  gentle  voice. 

"We'll  get  this  Lorimer  gent  —  which  his  real  name 
is  Lenton  —  "  sneered  Lumley  by  way  of  reply,  "  an' 
we'll  hang  him  good  an'  plenty  for  all  yo're  so  smart." 

"You  do  gimme  credit  for  somethin',  don't  yuh?" 
cried  Red  happily.  "  I  knowed  you'd  get  onto  me  after 
a  while.  I  just  knowed  it.  Here's  another  thing  before 
I  forget  it :  Mr.  Lorimer  or  Lenton  never  committed  no 
murder  or  robbery  neither.  Nawsir,  not  he." 

"If  her  dad  ain't  a  murderer,  why  for  did  she  signal  him 
then?"  demanded  Jake  Rule  shrewdly. 

Red  hadn't  thought  of  this.  It  was  a  facer,  rather. 
Nevertheless,  he  opened  his  mouth  to  cry  Jake  down,  but 
the  girl  squeezed  his  elbow  warningly  before  the  first 
word  was  out. 

"  Shut  up,"  she  whispered,  and  stepped  past  him  to  face 
Jake  Rule.  "  I'll  tell  you  why  I  signaled  to  my  father," 
she  went  on,  speaking  rapidly.  "  I  signaled  him  because 
if  he's  arrested  he'll  be  hung  for  a  crime  he  never  com 
mitted.  The  money  he  took  belonged  to  him.  How  can 
a  man  rob  himself  ?  " 

"  It  was  his  brother's  money !  "  broke  in  Sheriff  Lum 
ley.  "An'  he  killed  his  own  brother,  Dick  Lenton,  to  get 
it" 


"Ridin'   'Em"  185 


"  That's  a  lie,  and  you  know  it.  He  only  took  his  own 
share.  He  —  we  were  miles  away  when  Uncle  Dick 
was  killed." 

"  Maybe  you  can  prove  it,"  Lumley  suggested  wasp- 
ishly. 

"  A  fine  chance  we'd  have  of  provin'  anythin'  down  in 
Rock  County,  with  you  and  your  gang  ready  and  able  to 
swear  black's  green  till  all's  blue.  Dad  hasn't  a  chance, 
and  he  knows  it.  You've  had  it  in  for  him  ever  since  he 
told  you  to  your  filthy,  lyin'  face  what  particular  kind  of 
hound-dog  you  were.  You  haven't  nerve  enough  to 
come  out  in  the  open  and  fight  like  a  two-legged  he-man. 
No,  not  you;  you'll  sneak  and  slime  and  scheme  round  in 
the  dark  when  folks  aren't  lookin'  till  you  think  every- 
thin's  safe,  and  then  you'll  drive  your  skinnin'-knife  home 
right  between  the  shoulder  blades.  But  you've  missed  it 
this  time.  You'll  never  get  my  dad.  You'll  never  take 
him  back  to  Rock  County  to  swear  his  life  away.  Mark 
what  I  say,  Tom  Lumley.  You'll  kick  the  wind  while 
he's  still  well  and  hearty." 

She  took  a  step  toward  him,  her  arm  outstretched,  and 
he  fell  back  before  her  pointed  finger. 

"  I  tell  you,"  she  pursued,  her  black  eyes  blazing,  two 
bright  spots  of  pink  hot  on  her  cheeks,  "  I  tell  you,  if  any 
body  knows  who  killed  Uncle  Dick,  you  know,  and  I 
wouldn't  be  surprised  if  you  were  the  man  that  killed 
him." 

"  Look  here  —  "  began  Tom  Lumley  furiously. 

"  Never  mind.  I  don't  want  to  hear  another  word 
from  you.  I've  listened  to  you  long  enough.  Get,  and 
get  quick." 

"  I'll  go  when  I  get  good  and  ready,"  was  his  counter 
check  quarrelsome. 

'  Yo're  ready  now,"  Red  Kane  told  him  flatly,  one 
long  stride  bringing  him  breast  to  breast  with  Tom  Lum 
ley.  "  Pick  up  yore  feet  an'  stagger  out  through  the  door 


i  86  Lynch   Lawyers 


where  you  can  keep  company  with  the  other  animals. 
Flit." 

Tom  Lumley  tried  hard  to  look  down  those  inexorable 
gray  eyes.  But  he  wasn't  man  enough.  Sixty  seconds 
—  his  gaze  shifted,  veered  back,  wandered  away  again 
and  remained  away.  Tom  Lumley  shook  his  shoulders 
and  turned  toward  the  door. 

"  I  don't  want  no  trouble  —  now,"  he  said  and  went 
out. 


CHAPTER    TWENTY 
LUMLEY'S  LAUGH 

"  LORDY,  Dot,  you  don't  need  to  tell  us  nothin',"  said 
Red. 

"  I  want  to,"  she  declared,  sitting  down  on  the  bench 
outside  the  kitchen  door.  "  You'd  much  better  hear  it 
from  me  than  from  some  one  else." 

She  crossed  her  feet  and  leaned  forward,  her  clasped 
hands  between  her  knees.  Her  profile,  dark  and  clean- 
cut,  was  in  full  silhouette  against  the  sunset's  orange- 
tawny. 

Red  Kane,  sitting  on  the  other  end  of  the  same  bench, 
drew  a  long  breath.  It  must  be  said  that  he  was  think 
ing  more  of  her  profile  than  of  what  she  was  saying. 

"I  —  I  —  don't  know  where  to  begin,"  she  hesitated. 

"  Thassall  right,  Dot,"  said  Red,  his  eyes  on  that  al 
luring  profile.  "  Lean  forward  a  li'l  more,  will  yuh?  " 

"  Wha  —  what  ?  "     She  turned  her  head  quickly. 

"  Nothin',"  he  told  her  hastily,  jerking  his  shoulder 
away  from  his  brother's  pinching  fingers.  "I  —  I  was 
afraid  you  was  gonna  fall  off  the  bench." 

"  Is  that  why  your  brother's  tryin'  to  kick  you?  "  she 
asked  slowly. 

"  No,  no,  that's  only  Tom's  way.  You  mustn't  mind 
him.  He  —  he  don't  mean  nothin'.  He's  always  dev- 
ilin'  me.  Some  day  I'm  gonna  make  him  hard  to  find. 
Yessir,  I'll  just  naturally  have  to  crawl  his  hump  real 
savage." 

"  Idjit!  "     The  epithet  was  uttered  in  a  fierce  whisper 


i  8  8  Lynch   Lawyers 


as  Tom  jabbed  Red  in  the  ribs  with  stiffened  thumb. 
"  Move  over." 

Red  obeyed.  Tom  dropped  down  beside  him,  and  trod 
heavily  on  his  instep  in  the  process. 

"  You  stop  it."  Again  the  whisper  in  Red's  ear. 
"  You  gotta  stop  admirin'  her  while  I'm  here  any  — 
Ugh!" 

For  Red  had  kicked  back.  Tom  at  once  tucked  his 
legs  out  of  range  and  surreptitiously  fondled  a  dented 
shin. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  girl,  "  my  father's  real  name  is 
Benjamin  Lenton.  We  —  my  father  and  his  brother 
Dick  —  owned  the  Empire  mine  near  Flipup,  Rock 
County,  Colorado.  It's  not  a  big  mine,  but  there's  money 
in  it  for  energetic  men.  Dad's  active  enough,  Heaven 
knows,  but  Uncle  Dick  was  lazier  than  Ludlam's  dog,  and 
he  was  so  lazy  he  used  to  lean  his  head  against  a  wall  to 
bark. 

"We  worked  the  mine;  that  is,  Father  did,  and  I  helped, 
while  Uncle  Dick  lay  down  in  the  traces  and  spent  most 
of  his  time  in  Flipup  —  interestin'  capital,  he  called  it. 
Capital!  All  the  capital  you'd  find  in  Flipup  you  could 
stick  in  your  eye.  We  didn't  need  money,  anyway.  All 
the  Empire  needed  was  picks  and  shovels  and  the  arms  to 
use  'em.  Dune  Rouse's  place  was  Uncle  Dick's  favorite 
hang-out.  He  and  Dune  were  about  as  thick  as  a  saloon 
keeper  and  a  customer  ever  get  to  be.  Billy  Bruff,  Sher 
iff  Lumley  and  a  man  named  Usher  weren't  far  behind 
Dune  in  friendliness  toward  Uncle  Dick. 

"  Mind  you,  I'm  not  runnin'  down  Uncle  Dick.  I'm 
simply  tellin'  the  truth  about  him.  There  was  absolutely 
no  harm  in  the  man.  He  was  just  weak,  besides  bein'  a 
natural-born  fool  and  a  gambler.  Lord,  cards  weren't  a 
passion  with  him.  They  were  a  disease. 

"  Dad  never  said  much  to  Uncle  Dick.  He  held  it 
wasn't  any  of  his  business  what  he  did.  It  was  his  own 


Lumley's   Laugh  189 

money  he  was  wastin',  and  Dad  thought  by-and-by  he'd 
wade  in  and  do  his  share.  But  I  knew  better.  So  long 
as  he  was  allowed  to  loaf,  he'd  loaf.  And  it  used  to  make 
me  mad,  because  I  was  doin'  Uncle  Dick's  work. 

"  I'd  ask  Pa  to  make  him  hold  up  his  end  of  the  log, 
but  that's  all  the  good  it  ever  did.  Dad  never  would  be 
firm  about  it.  He  always  was  easy-goin'  that  way.  I'm 
built  differently,  and  I  got  good  and  tired  of  packin'  ore 
while  Uncle  Dick  shuffled  the  pasteboards  with  his  rap 
scallion  friends.  I  used  to  lay  Uncle  Dick  out  regularly 
whenever  he'd  come  home  for  supper.  It  got  so  that 
after  a  while  he  didn't  come  home  to  supper.  Then  he 
took  to  stayin'  out  all  night.  I  didn't  mind  that.  It 
made  one  less  to  bother  about. 

"  Maybe  I  wasn't  wise  to  nag  at  him  all  the  time.  I 
don't  know.  I  might  better  have  kept  my  mouth  shut. 
Because  one  day  Uncle  Dick  came  home  and  said  he  was 
tired  of  bein'  yelled  at  by  his  own  niece,  and  he  wasn't 
goin'  to  stand  it  any  longer,  he  wasn't,  and  he  was  goin'  to 
sell  the  mine,  he  was. 

"  Father  objected  to  that,  of  course.  He'd  no  fault  to 
find  with  the  Empire.  Uncle  Dick  could  sell  his  share 
of  the  mine  if  he  wanted  to,  but  as  for  himself,  he'd  hang 
on,  thank  you. 

"  That  wouldn't  do  at  all,  accordin'  to  Uncle  Dick. 
The  parties  who  wanted  the  mine  wanted  all  or  nothin'. 
*  Nothin',  then  is  what  they'll  get,'  said  my  dad.  Which 
didn't  suit  Uncle  Dick  naturally.  He  wasn't  real  drunk 
at  the  time,  I  remember  —  about  one  foot  in  the  stirrup 
and  the  other  draggin'  —  but  he'd  had  sufficient  to  make 
him  persistent  —  persistent  and  stubborn.  He  was  all 
mule  that  night,  Uncle  Dick. 

"  Well,  he  and  Pa  had  it  hot  and  heavy  back  and  forth. 
One  would  and  t'other  wouldn't  till  you  couldn't  hear 
yourself  think.  I  went  out  to  the  corral.  It  was  too 
noisy  for  me. 


i  go  Lynch   Lawyers 

"Next  mornin'  Dad  told  me  he'd  agreed  to  sell  his 
share  of  the  Empire.  The  buyers  were  Lumley,  Dune 
Rouse,  Usher  and  Billy  Bruff,  and  the  price  was  sixty 
thousand  dollars  in  gold.  Dad  was  set  on  that  point  — 
the  money  in  gold.  And  the  buyers  didn't  object. 

"  They  got  the  money  from  Piegan  City,  and  the  bill 
of  sale  was  signed  and  payment  made  at  Usher's  ware 
house  in  Flipup.  This  Usher  is  a  money-lender  with  two 
saloons  and  a  gambling  house  as  a  sideline,  and  he  had 
made  the  necessary  arrangements  about  the  gold. 

"  We  brought  the  money  out  to  our  house  at  the  mine 
that  evenin'  —  we  expected  to  go  on  livin'  there,  Dad  and 
I  did  —  and  Uncle  Dick  brought  a  bottle  home  with  him. 
Celebratin',  he  called  it.  He  celebrated  all  right. 

"  First  off  he  began  to  argue  about  the  sale.  Said  we 
should  have  waited  awhile  longer.  And  he  was  the  one 
that  started  the  sale  talk  in  the  very  beginnin',  mind  you. 
From  this  he  went  on  to  say  that  half  was  too  much  for 
Dad.  A  third  was  plenty.  Hadn't  he  —  Uncle  Dick  — 
engineered  the  sale  and  done  all  the  brain  work?  Dad 
didn't  say  anythin'  at  first  —  just  sat  there  lookin'  at  his 
brother.  Which  didn't  help  to  cool  off  Uncle  Dick  any. 
He  kept  right  on  headin'  toward  his  finish.  He  finally 
said  a  fourth  was  plenty  for  anybody  who'd  only  handled 
the  pick  and  shovel  end  of  it,  and  that  made  me  wild. 

"  There  were  calluses  on  the  palms  of  my  hands  as 
thick  as  sole  leather,  and  I'd  worn  out  enough  pairs  of 
overalls  to  stock  a  store.  I  was  hoppin'  mad,  and  I 
talked  to  Uncle  Dick,  and  he  called  me  names  —  he  was 
pretty  drunk  by  that  time  —  and  Dad  knocked  him  down 
flat  on  his  back.  Then  Uncle  Dick  got  the  shotgun  out 
of  the  corner  and  tried  to  shoot  Dad.  And  Dad  took  the 
gun  away  from  him  and  knocked  him  down  again  and 
broke  his  nose  and  some  of  his  front  teeth. 

"  Even  then  Uncle  Dick  wasn't  satisfied,  and  he  picked 
up  a  butcher  knife  and  went  for  Dad  again.  Then  Dad 


Lumley's   Laugh  191 

lost  his  temper,  and  he  bent  his  gun  over  Uncle  Dick's 
head  and  slammed  him  senseless  down  in  under  the  table. 
When  Uncle  Dick  came  to  after  a  while,  he  was  pretty 
sick,  and  he  looked  it.  He  sat  up,  holdin'  his  head  in  his 
hands  and  groanin',  and  sayin'  he'd  been  misunderstood 
all  his  life  and  he'd  never  meant  any  harm.  And  the 
buckshot  he  let  fly  at  Dad  didn't  miss  by  more'n  two 
inches ! 

"'That's  all  right,'  Pa  told  him.  'You'n  me  are 
through.  We  split  now  this  minute.  You  can  have  the 
house  and  one-half  the  money.  I'll  take  the  other  half 
and  half  the  horses  and  wagons  and  drag  it.' 

"  '  You  can't  go  too  quick  or  too  fast  for  me,'  said 
Uncle  Dick,  fetchin'  another  groan.  '  But  all  the  same,' 
said  Uncle  Dick,  '  a  third  o'  that  money  is  all  you  rightly 
deserve.'  Dad  didn't  say  anythin',  just  kept  on  dividin' 
the  gold  half  and  half.  When  it  was  all  even  Steven  in 
two  piles,  he  told  Uncle  Dick  to  count  it,  and  Uncle  Dick 
did.  Bein'  still  mellow,  although  a  lot  soberer  than  he 
was  at  first,  it  took  him  a  long  time.  He  got  it  over  with 
at  last  and  tucked  his  thirty  thousand  away  in  the  oven, 
still  grumblin'  that  it  wasn't  fair  and  he  should  have  had 
two-thirds.  Then  he  sat  down  on  the  floor  all  bloody 
as  he  was,  braced  his  back  against  the  oven  door  and  went 
to  sleep. 

"  We  loaded  our  share  of  the  household  belongin's  into 
the  wagons,  caught  up  the  horses  and  pulled  out,  leavin' 
Uncle  Dick  snorin'.  We  followed  the  Seymour  trail  in- 
tendin'  to  go  over  to  the  country  north  of  Piegan  City 
later. 

"  Next  evenin',  not  more'n  half  an  hour  after  we'd 
thrown  down  for  the  night,  Sam  Wylie,  one  of  our 
Flipup  friends,  came  peltin'  up  and  said  Uncle  Dick  had 
been  murdered.  When  the  new  owners  of  the  mine  rode 
out  to  take  possession  that  mornin',  Lumley  wanted  a 
drink  and  went  to  the  house.  There  was  Uncle  Dick  shot 


192  Lynch    Lawyers 


to  death,  lyin'  on  the  kitchen  floor.  There  was  no  sign  of 
any  money  anywhere,  and  Uncle  Dick's  three-diamond 
ring  that  he  paid  a  gambler  a  thousand  dollars  for  in 
Cheyenne  was  gone  and  Ltimley  and  the  others  were 
talkin'  of  Dad  as  the  thief  and  murderer.  Some  said  they 
were  makin'  out  a  warrant  when  he  left  to  warn  us. 

"  Well,  it  did  look  suspicious,  you  can  see  that  —  our 
leavin'  an'  all.  We  knew  that  if  Dad  was  arrested  he 
wouldn't  have  any  show.  The  sheriff,  who  didn't  like 
him  anyway,  would  be  sure  to  make  an  example  of  him. 
It  was  too  good  a  chance  to  miss  —  rid  himself  of  an 
enemy  and  make  a  record  at  one  fell  swoop. 

"We  talked  it  over,  Dad  and  I,  and  we  decided  our 
best  move  was  to  run.  We  didn't  like  the  idea  exactly, 
but  it  was  better  than  havin'  Dad  hung;  so  we  left  the 
wagons  standin'  and  rode  off  into  the  mountains.  We 
took  all  the  horses  with  us,  naturally,  and  we  certainly 
made  a  lot  of  trail  for  the  next  month.  At  the  end  of 
that  time  we  were  down  in  the  Nation.  We  stayed  there 
a  couple  of  months,  livin'  under  the  name  of  Lorimer, 
and  then  moved  on  into  Texas.  We  lived  awhile  in 
Goliad  County  and  then  drifted  west  again  to  Agua  Seca 
ranch  near  the  White  Sands  in  New  Mexico. 

"  We  hung  round  there  a  spell  and  wound  up  the  year 
with  four  months  at  Lincoln,  where  Pa  bought  out  a  little 
store  and  tried  to  settle  down.  But  it  was  no  go.  He 
didn't  like  keepin'  store  —  a  miner  never  does,  as  a  rule. 
So  we  pulled  our  freight  again,  this  time  with  wagons, 
expectin'  to  nester  somewhere.  We  finally  reached  this 
place,  and  —  and  that's  all,  I  guess." 

Miss  Lenton  looked  down  at  the  clasped  hands  between 
her  knees.  Then  she  raised  her  head  and  faced  Red  and 
his  brother.  Her  face  showed  gray  and  hazy  in  the  dusk. 

"  Well,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  what  do  you  think 
of  it  all?" 

"  I  think  them  four  gents,"  averred  Red  Kane  emphat- 


Lumley's    Laugh  193 

ically,  "  Lumley,  Bruff,  Rouse  an'  Usher  are  in  this  mur 
der  deal  up  to  their  belts.  Thirty  thousand  dollars  in  the 
stove,  an'  Lumley  was  the  man  to  find  it.  It  was  a  pick 
up  for  him,  a  pick-up.  He  couldn't  'a'  ordered  it  better. 
Nawsir.  No  sign  o'  the  money  anywhere  an'  yore  father 
blamed  instanter.  Shore  he  would  be." 

"  You  think  he  should  have  given  himself  up?  "  asked 
Miss  Lenton. 

"  Lordy,  no,  I  should  say  not.  He  done  the  best  thing 
he  could  do  under  the  circumstances.  But  them  was  bad 
circumstances,  an'  mighty  black-lookin'.  They  wasn't  no 
witnesses  but  you  to  the  quarrel  between  yore  pa  an'  yore 
uncle?" 

"  I  was  the  only  other  person  within  two  miles,  I 
guess." 

"  Shore,  an'  what  was  yore  uncle  shot  with?  " 

"  Sam  Wylie  said  with  the  shotgun.  Father  had  left 
that  as  part  of  Uncle  Dick's  share,  you  see." 

"  Shot  with  the  family  shotgun,  Dot,  makes  it  worse, 
if  anythin'.  Them  fellers  shore  are  holdin'  four  aces  an' 
the  joker." 

"  I  know  it,"  the  girl  said.  "  It  —  it  —  Oh,  it's  awful. 
Nun-now  we've  got  to  go  on  the  road  again.  And  I  did 
so  want  to  settle  down.  It's  not  good  for  Dad  to  be  con 
tinually  on  the  move." 

"  He'll  have  to  be  unless  this  deal's  fixed  up,"  said  Red 
soberly. 

"If  he  surrenders  and  stands  his  trial  he'll  —  " 

"  I  know,"  nodded  Red.  "  I  ain't  wantin'  him  to  give 
himself  up,  not  for  a  minute.  But  this  traipsin'  round 
can't  go  on.  Some  day  they'll  come  up  on  him  again  like 
they  done  here,  an'  maybe  the  next  time  they'll  rope  him 
good.  Ain't  that  the  way  you  see  it,  Tom?  " 

"  Shore,"  assented  Tom.  "  They's  only  one  thing  to 
do  —  catch  the  real  murderer." 

"  An'  till  he  is  caught,  Dot,  yore  pa  won't  never  be 


1 94  Lynch   Lawyers 

safe  —  never.  Why,  for  that  thirty  thousand  dollars 
they'd  follow  him  for  forty  years.  It's  more'n  a  safe  bet 
they  would." 

"  How  are  you  goin'  to  fix  it  up,  then  ?  It's  all  very 
well  to  say,  '  Catch  the  real  murderer.'  How  are  you 
goin'  to  catch  him?  And  who's  goin'  to  catch  him?  " 

"Who?    That's  easy.     I'm  the  answer." 

"You?" 

"  Me." 

"  But  —  " 

"But  why  not?  I'm  free,  white  an'  twenty-one.  I 
got  all  the  growth  I'll  ever  get.  An'  I  ain't  busy  right 
now.  What  more  do  yuh  want?  Dot,  I'm  just  the 
feller  to  go  down  there  to  Rock  County  an'  reform  it  a 
few.  From  what  you  say  an'  from  what  I've  seen  o' 
the  sheriff  an'  his  outfit,  I  guess  reformin'  wouldn't  hurt 
'em  none.  Tom'll  go  with  me.  Huh,  Tom?  " 

"Yeah,"  said  Tom  without  hesitation.  "You  bet  I'll 
go.  You'll  need  somebody  to  bury  you  likely,  an'  it 
might  as  well  be  me." 

"  You'll  never  put  me  to  bed  with  a  shovel,  old  settler. 
Never  think  it.  There  may  be  buryin'  done  —  you  can't 
always  tell  what'll  happen  on  a  job  like  this  —  but  the 
both  of  us'll  do  the  diggin'.  Lordy,  Dot,  don't  look  that- 
away.  Tom  didn't  mean  nothin',  the  poor  fool.  He's 
never  happy  without  he's  pullin'  a  long  face  an'  grumblin' 
what  a  rough  old  world  she  is.  So  don't  you  mind  him, 
'cause  I  don't.  Lookit,  they  must  be  a  few  straight  gents 
in  Rock  County.  They  can't  all  be  like  Lumley's  bunch. 
They's  this  Sam  Wylie,  f 'rinstance,  an'  who  else  ?  " 

"  The  two  Davis  boys  —  they  run  the  California  store 
in  Flipup  —  and  Bill  Stringer  and  '  Pike  County  '  Bowers 
were  Dad's  friends  and  the  only  ones  in  Flipup  I'd  be 
absolutely  sure  of.  There  are  other  honest  men  in  the 
county  itself,  but  they're  not  organized,  and  I  don't  know 
who  they  are,  anyway." 


Lumley's   Laugh  195 

"  Maybe  we  can  find  out.  Listen,  Dot,  all  them  things 
you  said  to  these  fellers  —  can  they  be  proved?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Every  bit  of  what  I  said  I'd  worked 
out  from  dribs  and  drabs  of  gossip  let  fall  by  Uncle  Dick 
when  he'd  come  home  drunk  and  spend  the  evenin'  with  a 
bottle.  But  there  was  somethin'  in  it  all  —  you  could  tell 
as  much  by  the  way  they  acted.  Bruff  held  the  steadiest 
of  the  three,  but  did  you  notice  his  eyes  when  I  said  the 
Third  Cavalry  was  at  Fort  Yardley?  " 

"  Shore.  Guess  he  didn't  know  that  regiment  is  back 
east  at  Fort  Snelling." 

"  Neither  did  I.  I  wish  it  was  nearer.  However,  if 
we  can't  use  the  desertion  charge,  there  are  enough  other 
things  against  him  —  against  all  three,  to  hang  'em  twice 
apiece." 

"  But  the  thing  is  to  get  proof,  an'  proof  that'll  stick. 
Even  this  kind  o'  proof  ain't  always  waterproof.  I've 
seen  a  murderer  with  ten  witnesses  against  him  acquitted 
just  too  easy.  These  sharps  would  have  their  own  wit 
nesses  too,  do  yuh  see,  an'  they'd  perjure  themselves  like 
li'l  men.  Which  is  the  worst  o'  shore-'nough  legal  law 
—  perjured  testimony  is  every  bit  as  good  as  honest-to- 
Gawd  evidence." 

"  You  know  it,"  corroborated  Tom. 

"  Let's  go  in  an'  get  somethin'  to  eat,"  said  Miss  Len- 
ton,  rising  to  her  feet  and  patting  down  and  tucking  in 
stray  and  sundry  locks  of  curly  hair.  "  It'll  make  all  of 
us  feel  more  cheerful." 

But  eating  added  little  to  their  sadly  tattered  peace  of 
mind.  The  aforesaid  peace  was  completely  reduced  to 
dust  by  the  return  after  moonrise  of  those  who  had 
departed  in  the  early  morning.  They  dismounted  at  the 
kitchen  door.  Lumley  was  the  first  to  enter. 

"  Bring  him  in,"  said  Lumley,  blatant  triumph  in  his 
smile.  "  Bring  him  in  an'  let  his  daughter  see  him." 

Red  Kane  dropped  the  dishcloth  and  stepped  nearer  to 


196  Lynch    Lawyers 

Miss  Lenton.  The  girl  carefully  set  down  the  coffeepot 
she  was  swabbing  and  turned  toward  the  doorway. 

In  through  the  doorway  came  her  father  —  hand 
cuffed. 

The  girl,  white  to  the  lips,  took  one  stumbling  forward 
step  and  then  pitched  headlong  in  a  dead  faint.  But 
Red's  long  arm  shot  beneath  her  as  she  fell.  He  eased 
her  down  on  the  floor  and  turned  her  over  on  her  back. 
Kneeling  on  one  heel,  he  faced  his  enemy  across  her 
body.  Lumley,  could  he  have  but  known  it,  was  as  near 
death  as  he  had  ever  been  in  his  precarious  life. 

"  I  guess,"  observed  Lumley,  his  porcine  eyes  glittering 
with  frank  delight,  "  I  guess  I  get  the  last  laugh  after  all." 


CHAPTER    TWENTY-ONE 

A    POINT    OF    LAW 

LENTON,  alias  Lorimer,  freed  of  the  handcuffs,  ate  his 
supper  with  appetite.  His  daughter  hovered  about  him. 
She  said  no  word.  By  the  trembling  of  her  chin  it  was 
obvious  that  she  was  very  close  to  tears. 

"  You'd  never  'a'  got  me  if  my  hoss  hadn't  'a'  fell 
down,"  remarked  Lenton,  stirring  the  sugar  in  his  third 
cup  of  coffee. 

"  That  was  a  lucky  tumble  for  us,"  said  Lumley. 

"  I  was  talkin'  to  the  other  sheriff,"  explained  Lenton, 
switching  cold  eyes  on  Lumley. 

"  You'll  talk  to  me  before  yo're  through,"  grinned 
Lumley.  "  You'll  stretch  well,  old-timer.  Bein'  tall, 
yore  neck'll  lengthen  four  inches.  I've  seen  'em  act  just 
like  rubber." 

"  That'll  be  about  all,"  suggested  Red  Kane  at  Sheriff 
Lumley 's  exhibition  of  bad  taste  in  repartee. 

"  I  guess  yes."     Jake  Rule  confirmed  the  rebuke. 

"  I  shore  oughta  had  better  sense'n  to  head  back  for 
here  in  the  mornin',"  went  on  the  unruffled  Lenton.  "  I 
might  'a'  knowed  you  wouldn't  go  to  Farewell  so  soon." 

"  Tough  luck,"  said  Jake  Rule.  "  Next  time  yuh'll 
know  better." 

"  Next  time!  "  sneered  Billy  Bruff.  "  They  won't  be 
no  next  time !  " 

"  After  my  readin'  the  signals  so  plain  an'  all,"  Lenton 
said,  paying  no  attention  to  Bruff,  "  to  be  glommed  onto 
thisaway  is  shore  discouragin'." 


198  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  Ain't  it,"  assented  Jake  Rule.  "  Nemmine  gettin' 
up,  Lenton.  Here's  the  makin's,  if  that's  what  yuh  want." 

"If  that's  the  way  yuh  feel  about  it,  '  no  movin'  '  goes. 
Yo're  jomightyful  cautious,  ain't  yuh?  You  must  think 
I'm  gonna  try  to  escape  or  somethinV 

"  I  ain't  trustin'  you  a  foot,"  Jake  told  him.  "  I'm 
free  to  admit  I'll  be  glad  when  yo're  off  my  hands  to 
morrow." 

:<  You  ain't  sendin'  him  back  to  Rock  County  to-mor 
row,  are  yuh  ?  "  demanded  Red  Kane. 

"An'  why  not?"  cut  in  Lumley  hotly.  "Why  not, 
I'd  like  to  know?" 

Red  Kane  was  at  a  loss  for  an  answer.  Then  suddenly 
the  fragmentary  recollection  of  a  long-forgotten  lawsuit 
stuck  its  head  above  the  surface  in  the  backwaters  of  his 
mind. 

:(  Yuh  said  they's  a  warrant  out  for  Ben  Lenton,  didn't 
yuh?  "  Red  asked  of  Jake  Rule. 

"  Shore,"  replied  the  Fort  Creek  sheriff. 

"  Lemme  see  it,"  said  Red. 

"  He's  got  it."    Jake  nodded  toward  Lumley. 

"  Lemme  see  it,"  Red  repeated  to  Lumley. 

Lumley  hesitated.  He  wanted  to  refuse,  if  only  to 
gratify  petty  spite. 

"  Lemme  see  it."  Red  stretched  forth  an  arm.  "  This 
warrant  may  not  be  legal." 

At  which  Lumley  produced  the  warrant  from  an  inner 
pocket  of  his  vest  and  slapped  it  down  on  Red's  open 
palm. 

"  Read  her  off,"  invited  Lumley,  "  an'  see  if  she  ain't 
legal  to  the  finish." 

Red  opened  the  document  and  spread  it  flat  on  the 
table.  So  far  as  he  could  discover,  the  warrant  was 
water-tight. 

"  Lessee  yore  extradition  papers,"  Red  said  to  Lumley. 

Lumley  did  not  hesitate  now.     He  handed  the  papers 


A   Point   of  Law  199 

to  Red  at  once.  At  first  glance  the  extradition  papers 
looked  to  be  as  proof  as  the  warrant. 

"  See,"  pointed  out  Lumley  —  "  signed  by  both  Gov 
ernors.  What  more  djuh  want?" 

Lumley  would  have  been  better  advised  to  keep  silent. 
Under  the  spur  of  his  speech  Red  remembered  another 
detail  in  that  long- forgotten  case. 

"  When  did  yuh  arrest  Ben  Lenton?  "  Red  inquired  of 
Jake  Rule. 

"  This  mornin'." 

"  Then  when  these  extradition  papers  were  made  out 
he  hadn't  been  arrested." 

"That's  got  nothin'  to  do  with  it!"  bawled  Lumley. 
"  Them  papers  is  all  right!  " 

"  When  you  went  to  the  Governor  of  Colorado  for 
these  extradition  papers,"  Red  drawled  serenely,  "  you 
hadda  say  the  gent  you  wanted  'em  for  had  been  arrested, 
didn't  yuh?" 

Lumley  made  no  reply.  He  looked  uncertainly  at  Billy 
Bruff. 

"Didn't  yuh?"  persisted  Red  Kane. 

"  Yes,  I  did !  "  Lumley  cried  defiantly.    "  What  of  it  ?  " 

"  Only  this,  feller,  only  this.  Just  a  li'l  point  you  over 
looked.  When  you  went  to  yore  Governor  an'  told  him 
Ben  Lenton  was  arrested,  you  lied,  see,  'cause  Ben  was 
strollin'  free  an'  careless  wherever  he  liked  at  the  time. 
Unless  a  man  is  already  arrested,  yuh  can't  take  out  extra 
dition  papers  for  him.  That's  the  law,  an'  for  once  the 
law  is  common-sensical.  Any  fool  oughta  know  yuh  can't 
extradite  a  gent  who  don't  exist  —  yessir,  exist.  I  heard 
Judge  Allison  down  in  Marysville  use  that  very  word  — 
an'  Lenton  didn't  begin  to  exist  as  a  criminal  under  the 
law  till  he  was  arrested." 

"  But  he's  arrested  now,"  exclaimed  Lumley,  "  an*  I 
guess  you  can't  deny  that !  " 

"  I  ain't  denyin'  it.     I'm  sayin'  these  papers  is  no  good, 


2oo  Lynch   Lawyers 

an'  you  gotta  get  new  ones  before  you  can  take  Lenton 
out  o'  Fort  Creek  County.  I  ain't  even  shore  that  Jake 
Rule  can  hold  him." 

"  I'll  hold  him  all  right,"  Jake  assured  Red.  "  Don't 
bet  money  against  that.  I  can  hold  him  on  suspicion, 
anyway.  Shucks,  Lumley,  why  was  you  in  such  a  hurry  ? 
Why  didn't  yuh  wait  to  get  yore  papers  till  after  Lenton 
was  arrested  ?  " 

'You  mean  to  say  yuh  won't  honor  them  papers?" 
gapped  Lumley. 

'  Yep."  Jake  nodded  an  emphatic  head.  "  I  dunno 
why  I  never  thought  of  it  before,  but  it's  just  like  Red 
says :  them  papers  wasn't  no  good  when  they  was  made 
out.  This  bein'  so  don't  make  me  none  too  shore  they're 
any  good  now.  The  best  thing  you  can  do  is  flit  back 
to  Colorado  an'  get  new  ones.  .  .  .  Huh?  You  know 
as  well  as  I  do,  yore  Colorado  warrant  don't  travel  a  foot 
in  this  Territory  —  not  a  foot." 

"  I  don't  give  a whether  them  extradition  papers 

wasn't  no  good  then,"  bellowed  Lumley,  manifestly  deter 
mined  to  override  all  opposition ;  "  they're  good  now. 
He's  been  identified  by  us,  ain't  he?  He's  been  arrested 
by  you,  ain't  he  ?  All  right,  then.  Here's  the  extradition 
papers.  They're  drawed  up  legal.  I  call  on  you  to  obey 
'em  an'  gimme  this  prisoner." 

"  They  ain't  legal !  "  gainsaid  Red  quite  as  vehemently. 
"  You  wanna  go  slow,  Jake.  You  better  —  " 

"  I  don't  need  nobody  to  tell  me  how  to  run  my  office, 
Red,"  interrupted  the  harassed  Fort  Creek  sheriff. 
"  They's  somethin*  funny  about  this  business,"  he  contin 
ued,  turning  on  the  Rock  County  man.  "  When  you 
took  these  papers  to  our  Governor  to  sign  you  told  him 
Lenton  was  in  custody,  like  you  told  yore  own  Governor, 
or  you'd  never  'a'  got  him  to  sign  'em.  I  dunno  nothin' 
about  the  Governor  of  Colorado,  but  I  know  the  Governor 
of  this  Territory,  an'  he's  a  lawyer,  an'  he'd  never  allow 


A   Point   of  Law  201 

no  such  monkeyin'  with  the  law  as  this.  Which  I  should 
say  not  in  a  million  years.  Shut  up,  Lumley!  I'm 
a-doin'  this  talkin'.  I  tell  yuh  flat,  I  think  yo're  runnin' 
a  brace  game,  but  I'm  willin'  to  be  fair.  We'll  get  legal 
advice  on  this." 

"  Legal  advice !  "  yelped  Lumley.  "  Where  in  Gawd's 
name  yuh  gonna  get  legal  advice  this  side  o'  Piegan  City  ? 
I  can't  wait  for  —  " 

"  Yuh  can  go  home  whenever  yo're  ready.  They  ain't 
no  ropes  on  you.  But  my  prisoner  don't  go  till  I  get  that 
legal  advice,  an'  I  don't  have  to  send  to  Piegan  City  for 
it  neither.  Our  Governor's  takin'  a  vacation  up  at  Cutter. 
He  told  me  he  was  gonna  make  it  two  weeks  when  he 
stopped  off  at  Farewell,  an'  the  two  weeks  ain't  up  yet. 
So  I'll  ride  up  to  Cutter  an'  find  out  what's  what.  You 
can  come  along  if  yuh  wanna." 

"  I  don't  wanna.  Not  for  a  minute.  I'm  gonna  stay 
by  the  prisoner." 

"  I'll  leave  Kansas  Casey  on  guard  at  the  jail,  so  —  " 

"  Then  I'll  help  Kansas  Casey,"  declared  Sheriff  Lum 
ley.  "  All  three  of  us'll  help  Kansas  Casey.  I  ain't 
takin'  no  chances,  Mister  Sheriff,  not  a  single  chance." 

"  All  right.  Through,  Lenton  ?  Le's  be  movin'  then. 
That's  enough,  Lumley.  You've  asked  him  about  the 
money  forty  times.  Let  it  go  at  that." 

Red  Kane,  crossing  the  room,  passed  in  front  of  Tele 
scope  Laguerre.  The  half-breed,  who  had  started  to 
rise  as  Jake  Rule  spoke,  resumed  his  seat. 

"  Ain't  yuh  comin',  Telescope  ?  "  queried  Tom  Loudon 
from  the  doorway. 

"'My  pony  she  tire,"  said  the  half-breed,  the  teeth 
flashing  white  beneath  his  stubby  black  mustache.  "  I 
t'ink  I  weel  stay  here  aw'ile  mebbeso." 

When  the  posse  rode  away  into  the  moonlit  night,  Dot 
Lenton  slumped  down  on  the  doorsill  and  began  to  cry. 

"  Thassall  right,"  said  Red  soothingly,  awkwardly  pat- 


2O2  Lynch    Lawyers 

ting  her  shoulder.  "  Thassall  right  now.  Don't  you 
fret.  Don't  you  fret  a  single  mite.  Yore  pa  ain't  gonna 
stay  in  that  jail  long." 

"  Wha  —  what  do  you  mean?  " 

The  light  from  the  kitchen  slanted  across  the  tear- 
stained  face  when  she  raised  her  head. 

"  I  mean  we're  gonna  get  him  out." 

"  You're  goin'  to  get  him  out !  " 

"  Yep,  y'  bet  yuh."     With  the  utmost  confidence. 

"How?" 

She  lifted  a  hand  and  laid  it  tremblingly  on  his  knee. 

Telescope  Laguerre  tactfully  looked  out  of  the  window. 
He  was  beginning  to  understand.  Tom  Kane  understood 
but  too  well,  and  he  did  not  look  out  of  the  window.  He 
stared  gloomily  across  the  glowing  end  of  his  cigarette  at 
the  small  hand  outlined  against  the  leather  of  Red's  chaps. 

"  Le's  go  out  to  the  spring,"  suggested  Red.  "  I'm 
kind  o'  thirsty.  Ain't  you  ?  " 

Apparently  the  girl  was,  for  she  allowed  him  to  help 
her  to  her  feet.  The  two  drifted  away  under  the  moon 
toward  the  spot  where  the  cottonwoods'  shadows  splashed 
the  grass  with  velvet  black. 

"  In  a  minute  he'll  come  back  with  a  fine  scheme  to  get 
us  both  hung,"  grumbled  Tom  Kane. 

"  How?  "  inquired  Telescope. 

"  I  dunno  how,  but  I  know  him.  You  heard  what  he 
said  about  gettin'  Lenton  out  o'  jail,  didn't  yuh?  Aw 
right,  he  meant  it.  But  he's  got  his  nerve  pullin'  you  in, 
Telescope.  They  wasn't  no  call  for  that.  I  saw  him 
pinch  yore  knee,  an'  I  tried  to  catch  his  eye,  but  he 
wouldn't  look." 

"  Dat  ees  all  right,"  smiled  the  half-breed.  "  Eef  Red 
she  wan'  for  me  to  help  heem,  by  gar  I  weel  help  heem, 
me.  Wat  you  t'ink  about  dat  man  Lenton,  Tom  ?  " 

"  We-ell,  I'll  tell  yuh,  Telescope.  The  evidence  is  all 
against  Lenton,  but  I'm  believin'  that  girl.  Hell's  bells, 


A   Point  of  Law  203 

when  she  says  a  thing,  yuh  gotta  believe  it.  Yuh  can't 
help  yoreself.  An'  she  say  he  didn't  commit  no  murder 
nor  robbery  neither." 

"  Den  Lenton  she  didn',"  Telescope  declared  with 
finality.  "  Dat  girl  she  have  de  hones'  face,  un  dem  tree 
men  from  Coloraydo  dey  have  not  de  hones'  face.  I  tell 
you,  Tom,  eef  I  was  for  have  much  beezness  wit'  dem 
tree  men,  I  t'ink  I  would  wear  my  seex-shootair  inside  de 
waist-ban'  o'  my  pant',  by  gar.  I  do  not  trus'  dem  not 
so  far  as  I  can  see  de  skeetair  een  de  moonlight.  Gimme 
de  match." 

When  Red  and  Miss  Lenton  reached  the  spring,  the 
blazoned  purpose  of  their  coming  fled  their  minds.  Miss 
Lenton  turned  to  Red  and  took  hold  of  the  lapels  of  his 
vest. 

"  How  will  you  get  him  out?  "  she  demanded. 

He  found  it  difficult  to  pattern  his  thoughts  —  to  speak 
coherently.  She  was  so  near.  Her  face  was  within  six 
inches  of  his  face.  The  sweet  scent  of  her  hair  was  in 
his  nostrils.  She  leaned  against  him  ever  so  little.  The 
soft  darkness  enveloped  them. 

Red,  feeling  strangely  dizzy,  a  throbbing  roar  as  of 
many  distant  waterfalls  in  his  ears,  stared  over  the  girl's 
head  at  the  corral  and  the  ranch-house  where  they  glim 
mered  greeny-gray  in  the  moonshine.  In  the  lower  half 
of  the  kitchen  window  as  in  a  picture  frame,  the  motion 
less  head  and  shoulders  of  Telescope  Laguerre  bulked 
against  the  lamplight. 

"  Lordy,"  whispered  Red  Kane,  breathing  deeply,  "  we 
ain't  gonna  get  nowhere  thisaway.  Here  —  here's  a  rock, 
Dot.  You  sit  on  it." 

She  loosed  her  hold  on  his  lapels  and  obeyed  him  as 
obediently  as  a  little  girl.  He  sat  down  cross-legged  in 
front  of  her  and  pushed  his  hat  back  from  his  damp  fore 
head. 

"  I  got  a  idea,"  he  said,  his  eyes  on  the  cloudy  gray  oval 


204  Lynch   Lawyers 

that  was  her  face.  "  It  ain't  all  clear  yet  in  my  mind. 
Part  I'll  have  to  work  out  as  I  go  along.  Yuh  gotta  in 
a  case  like  this,  'cause  yuh  neve.r  know  what  the  other 
feller's  gonna  do. 

"  Yore  dad'll  be  in  the  Farewell  calaboose  till  day  after 
to-morrow.  Jake  won't  get  back  from  Cutter  before  late 
to-morrow  night,  an'  maybe  he  won't  then.  The  Gover 
nor  may  not  be  in  Cutter.  He  may  be  off  fishin'  or  out 
at  Lane's  Ranch  over  north  o'  Cutter  about  ten  miles. 
Tump  Lane's  a  friend  o'  the  Governor's,  an'  it  ain't  likely 
he'd  come  alia  way  up  here  an'  not  visit  Tump.  So  yuh 
see,  if  Jake  has  to  scout  round  after  the  Governor,  it'll 
take  time,  an'  maybe  it'll  be  a  couple  o'  days  before  Jake 
gets  back  with  what  he  went  for. 

"  But  I  ain't  figurin'  to  need  two  days.  To-morrow 
night,  if  I  ain't  out  o'  luck  complete,  we'll  turn  the  trick. 
It's  thisaway,  Dot :  Tom  an'  me'n  Telescope,  we'll  —  " 

And  he  went  on  to  tell  with  as  much  detail  as  possible 
his  plan  for  the  release  of  Mr.  Lenton. 

The  girl  listened  in  silence.  When  he  had  finished, 
she  breathed  a  long,  quivering  sigh. 

"  I  think  it'll  work,"  she  said.  "  But  there'll  be  danger; 
so  I'm  goin'  with  you." 

Red  chuckled  in  tender  scorn  of  her. 

"That'd  be  real  sensible,  wouldn't  it?"  he  smiled. 
"Yo're  chimin'  in  would  make  it  twice  as  dangerous. 
Not  that  they's  any  real  danger,  of  course,"  he  hastened 
to  add.  "  Only  a  li'l  risk,  an'  they's  that  every  time  yuh 
saddle  a  hoss.  Don't  you  worry,  Dot,  everything  gonna 
go  off  like  a  clock  wound  up.  We  —  " 

"  I'm  goin'  with  you,"  she  interrupted. 

"  Not  if  I  gotta  tie  yuh  down  you  ain't,"  he  told  her 
flatly. 

"  I  can't  let  you  take  every  chance  alone,"  she  persisted 
stubbornly.  "  I'm  goin',  I  tell  you,  and  that's  all  there 
is  to  it." 


A   Point   of  Law  205 

"Don't  you  see  that  yo're  needed  right  here?"  he 
asked  patiently.  "  The  first  place  they'll  search  is  this 
ranch-house,  an'  they'll  bust  out  here  on  the  jump,  lemme 
tell  yuh.  An'  you  gotta  be  here  when  they  come  all 
ready  to  play  the  innocent.  An'  yuh  gotta  play  the 
innocent  strong  —  so  strong  they'll  think  yuh  dunno 
nothin'  about  the  jail-break.  'Cause,  yuh  see,  if  yuh 
dunno  nothin'  about  it,  the  first  thing  yore  dad  would  do 
would  be  to  come  see  yuh  or  write  to  yuh  or  let  yuh  know 
somehow;  so  they'll  watch  the  ranch  mighty  close,  an' 
they  won't  scout  round  so  energetic  after  yore  father. 

"  Tom  Lumley  an'  his  two  burlies  won't,  special. 
They'll  take  root  near  where  they  think  the  money  is 
likely.  An'  I  want  'em  to  do  that,  y'bet  yuh.  The 
longer  they  stay  away  from  Rock  County  an'  Flipup,  the 
better  I'll  be  pleased.  They're  slick.  I  give  'em  credit 
for  that.  They  showed  it  by  not  swearin'  out  a  warrant 
for  you  along  with  yore  pa.  They  don't  want  you  on  no 
witness  stand  yet  awhile.  You  got  plenty  o'  car 
tridges?" 

"Plenty.    Why?" 

"  Yo're  gonna  be  here  alone,  an'  —  " 
"  Silly !  "  she  interrupted.  "  Who'd  hurt  me  ?  " 
"For  thirty  thousand  dollars  some  jiggers  would  — 
Well,  Dot,  you  gotta  risk  it  at  first  till  Jake  an'  Kansas 
have  been  out  here  an'  searched  an'  asked  questions. 
After  that  you  spend  all  the  time  you  can  in  Farewell. 
Stay  with  Joy  Blythe,  Mike  Flynn's  partner,  or  Mis' 
Jackson.  They'll  be  tickled  to  death  to  have  you.  I'll 
tell  Telescope  to  pass  the  word  to  Jake  an'  Kansas  to 
lookout  yore  game  all  they  can.  They  bein'  after  yore 
pa  won't  make  no  differ.  They  ain't  gonna  see  no  woman 
hurt.  Will  yuh  do  as  I  say  now?  .  .  .  Well,  that  ain't 
much  of  a  promise,  but  I  s'pose  I'll  have  to  be  satisfied. 
Yo're  the  doctor.  .  .  .  Huh?  No,  Dot,  I  don't  wanna 
hear!  I  don't  wanna  know  where  the  money's  hid.  I 


206  Lynch   Lawyers 

might  talk  in  my  sleep  or  get  delirious  or  somethin'  an' 
let  it  out.  You  keep  it  to  yoreself.  Shore,  I  know  yuh 
trust  me,  but  I'd  a  heap  rather  yuh  didn't  tell  me." 

Her  body  swayed  toward  him. 

"  You're  good,"  she  whispered.  "  You're  just  good. 
I  —  I  —  Red,  if  you  get  my  father  out  of  this,  I'll  marry 
you." 

"  Will  yuh?  "  said  he  calmly,  not  altering  his  position 
in  the  slightest.  "  Would  that  be  the  only  reason?  " 

"  I'll  risk  the  —  the  other,"  she  affirmed  unsteadily. 

"  Not  with  me."  Emphatically.  "  Look  here,  girl," 
he  continued  in  lower  but  no  whit  less  earnest  tones,  "  this 
love  part  o'  marriage  is  the  greatest  thing  in  the  world. 
It's  the  only  reason  they  is  for  marriage.  The  only  thing 
that  makes  bein'  married  worth  while  is  love.  It's  like 
the  saddle  on  the  hoss,  Dot.  The  hoss  can  be  rode  bare 
back,  but  even  if  he  don't  pile  yuh,  yo're  shore  to  be  a 
heap  weary  an'  wanna  get  off  an'  walk  before  long.  I 
don't  —  I  wouldn't  have  yuh  marry  me  till  yuh  say  yuh 
love  me.  Yuh  can't  say  that  now,  can  yuh?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     I'm  not  sure.     I  —  " 

"  There  now.  If  yuh  loved  me,  yuh'd  say  so  right 
out." 

"  But  I  tried  to,  Red.  I  did,  honestly.  An'  I  can't. 
It  —  it  wouldn't  be  true." 

"Shore,  thassall  right.  It  will  be  true  some  day. 
You  got  to  love  me.  No  two  ways  about  that.  Yuh  just 
got  to.  An'  yo're  gonna.  I  can  wait.  Yo're  a  heap 
worth  waitin'  for." 

"  But  —  but  suppose  I  never  am  able  to  say  it  truth 
fully?" 

At  this  he  swept  an  arm  across  and  downward  as  one 
who  brushes  away  the  trifling  fly. 

"  I'm  tellin'  you  over  an'  over  again,"  he  affirmed  with 
the  utmost  earnestness,  "  that  yo're  gonna.  G-O-N-E  — 
gone,  T-O  —  to  —  gonna.  Why,  listen,  girl,  I  never  was 


A   Point   of  Law  207 

religious  much.  They's  more  dance-halls  than  churches 
out  here,  anyway,  an'  besides  I  never  thought  about  such 
things,  bein'  busy  myself  most  always,  but  if  they  ain't  a 
heaven,  then  why  was  I  allowed  to  find  you  like  I  did? 
Shore,  Heaven  wouldn't  never  'a'  lemme  fall  in  love  with 
you  so  hard  if  you  wasn't  meant  to  love  me  back  some 
time.  Now,  don't  say  nothin'.  Just  you  set  right  still 
an'  think  it  over.  I  gotta  go  in  the  house  an'  fix  things 
up  with  Tom  an'  Telescope." 

When  Red   entered  the   ranch-house,   the  half-breed 
looked  at  him  woodenly.     Tom,  apparently  plunged  in 
the  dark  depths  of  gloom,  stared  sulkily  at  his  own  toes. 
Red  sat  down  on  the  table  edge  and  smiled  cheerily. 
"  We  gotta  get  Ben  Lenton  out  o'  jail,"  said  he.     "  I 
got  it  planned  to  a  fareyouwell.     All  we  gotta  do  —  " 

"What'd  I  tell  yuh,  Telescope?"  interrupted  Tom. 
"  Here's  where  we  all  git  ten  years  apiece  at  Piegan  City, 
if  we  ain't  buried  first,  which  is  also  plumb  likely.  G'on, 
Red.  Don't  lemme  choke  yuh  off." 

"  You  ain't,"  Red  said  calmly,  unhurriedly  building  a 
cigarette.  "  I've  changed  my  mind.  I'll  tell  yuh  my 
scheme  while  we're  ridin'  to  the  Bar  S.  We'll  save  time 
thataway." 

"  Whadda  yuh  wanna  go  to  the  Bar  S  for?  "  demanded 
the  irritable  Tom.  "  I  thought  you  was  through  there 
once." 

"  I  am,  but  I  want  my  time.  I  got  seventy  round  hard 
simoleums  a-comin'  to  me,  an'  they'll  be  right  handy  for 
a  young  gent  my  size.  What  say  we  start  in  about  ten 
minutes?  I  gotta  pack  in  some  water  from  the  spring 
first.  Nemmine  about  helping  me.  Thank  yuh  most  to 
death.  I'm  plenty  able  to  lift  two  pails  without  strainin' 
any  muscles." 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-TWO 

THE   BAR   S 

"  AN'  if  any  sport  present  has  a  better  idea,"  said  Red 
as  the  horses  single-footed  through  the  moonshot  night, 
"  le's  hear  it." 

"  Swelled  head,  ain't  he?  "  grunted  Tom  to  Telescope. 
"  My  own  brother,  an'  all  swelled  up  like  a  poisoned  pup. 
You  don't  mean  to  say  yuh  thought  that  all  up  without 
any  help,  Red  —  yore  own  self,  out  o'  yore  own  head?  " 

"  I  mean  to  say  lots  of  things,"  said  Red,  "  but  if  I 
was  to  tell  yuh  only  a  quarter  of  'em,  yuh'd  get  insulted 
an'  drill  me.  Which  will  be  about  all  from  you." 

"  Oh,  will  it,  you  red-headed  chipmunk  ?  You  shore 
got  all  kinds  o'  gall,  you  have.  My  barn !  You  act  like 
barns  didn't  cost  nothin'.  Aw,  I  know  you'll  pay  me 
some  day.  You  bet  you  will,  old  settler.  But  alia  same, 
if  you'd  prance  out  an'  do  all  yore  li'l  funny  businesses 
private  so's  if  anybody's  wiped  out  it'll  be  only  yoreself, 
I'd  be  tickled  to  death.  But  not  you.  Oh,  no,  not  by  a 
mile  an'  a  half.  You  gotta  rope  in  Telescope,  just  as  if 
he  was  interested.  Lookit  here,  Red,  ain't  I  enough  ?  " 

"  I  ain't  heard  Telescope  kickin'  none,"  countered  Red. 

"  You  won'  neither,"  declared  the  halfbreed.  "  Dees 
weel  be  amusant,  bien  sur.  I  do  not  like  dat  Meestair 
Lumley.  She  have  de  beeg  mouth." 

"  They  know  Telescope  stayed  at  Lorimer's  —  Lenton's 
I  mean,  after  they  left,"  said  Tom  dubiously,  rubbing  his 
chin  with  the  back  of  his  hand.  "  Maybe  now  they'd  be 


The  Bar  S  209 

suspicious  of  him.  Maybe  now  they  wouldn't  ask  him  to 
do  no  trailin'." 

"  Trust  Telescope."  Red  nodded  a  confident  head. 
"  They  know  he's  the  best  trailer  in  the  territory.  Shore 
they'll  ask  him." 

"  You  bet  you,"  affirmed  the  half-breed.  "  I  have  been 
de  scout;  I  have  leeve  wit'  Enjun.  I  weel  mak  dem 
sheriff'  see  wat  I  wan'  dem  to  see  un  t'ink  wat  I  wan' 
dem  to  t'ink.  I  weel  walk  een  de  watair-r-r  plenty,"  he 
added  emphatically,  and  his  black  eyes  rolled  in  company 
with  his  "  r's." 

"  See,  Tom,"  Red  pointed  out  kindly,  "  yo're  a  fool  like 
always.  But  don't  get  down-hearted.  Maybe  yuh'll  out 
grow  it." 

Mere  words  could  not  possibly  do  justice  to  Tom's  feel 
ings,  but  he  did  his  best. 

Two  hours  later,  when  the  ground  began  to  lift  to  the 
eastern  shoulder  of  Indian  Ridge,  they  split  one  and  two, 
Telescope  riding  away  toward  Farewell,  the  brothers 
heading  southward  into  the  Big  Bend  of  the  Lazy  River, 
where  lay  the  Bar  S  ranch. 

"  An'  I  gotta  leave  my  business,"  complained  Tom, 
once  Telescope  was  beyond  hearing,  "  an'  help  you  get  a 
girl  I  don't  want  yuh  to  get." 

"  You  ain't  helpin'  me  get  no  girl,"  tossed  back  Red. 
"  Not  for  a  minute  you  ain't.  Yo're  only  gonna  help  me 
get  her  pa  out  o'  jail.  Thassall,  Tom.  Just  a  li'l  jail- 
bustin'." 

"  Same  thing,  feller,  same  thing.  Don't  yuh  guess  I 
know  how  yuh'll  stand  with  that  girl  when  we  turn  her 
pa  loose?  I  ain't  no  plumb  idjit,  if  I  am  yore  brother. 
Why,  she'll  fall  on  yore  neck  like  she's  never  gonna  leggo. 
An'  then  yuh'll  marry  her." 

"  That'll  be  great,"  declared  Red,  and  the  happiness  in 
his  voice  was  tremendous. 

"Good-by,"  snarled  the  goaded  Tom,  "you've  gone 


2  i  o  Lynch   Lawyers 

under  for  the  third  time.  I  knowed  it.  You  always  was 
the  unlucky  one  of  us  two." 

"Unlucky?" 

"  Shore  unlucky,  but  they's  no  tellin'  how  much  till 
after  yuh  been  married  long  enough  to  get  over  the  honey 
moon  feelin'.  Unlucky!  Which  I  should  remark!  You'll 
look  at  me  caperin'  round  foot-free  an'  fancy-loose,  an' 
you'll  say,  '  Lordy,  I  used  to  be  like  that  once,'  an'  me, 
I'll  lay  back  an'  laugh  at  yuh.  Don't  yuh  never  tell  me  I 
didn't  warn  yuh.  I  got  a  sore  throat  doin'  it." 

At  midnight  they  made  a  dry  camp  beside  the  trail  and 
slept  four  hours.  They  were  trotting  on  at  a  few  min 
utes  past  four. 

The  Bar  S  outfit  were  noisily  sitting  down  to  breakfast 
in  the  log  dining  room  adjoining  the  cook-shack  when 
Red  and  his  brother  walked  in. 

"Here's  the  trouble-makers,"  bawled  Buff  Warren. 
"  Licked  the  rest  o'  the  88  yet,  Tom?  " 

"  Not  yet,"  grinned  Tom.  "  I  done  left  a  few  for  you 
fellers." 

"  We  don't  never  get  a  chance  at  'em,"  mourned  the 
vainglorious  "  Kid."  "  You  bet  they  keep  out  of  our  way." 

"  Hear  who's  talkin' !  "  cried  Dave  Cantrell.  "  Ever 
since  the  Kid's  voice  changed  for  good  he  acts  just  like 
a  grown-up.  Wears  a  gun  an'  everythin'." 

"  I  see  I  gotta  come  back,"  said  Red,  swinging  a  leg 
over  the  bench  at  Dave's  side.  "  The  Kid  shore  needs  a 
chaperon.  An'  I  was  the  only  one  that  ever  could  man 
age  him.  Has  Jimmie  had  to  spank  him  lately?  " 

Here  the  maligned  and  affronted  Kid  flung  a  hunk  of 
bread.  Red  ducked  and  countered  with  a  Dill  pickle, 
long  and  luscious,  that  struck  the  Kid  on  the  left  eye  and 
spattered  his  face  most  nobly. 

"  Ow !  "  yelled  the  Kid,  and,  clapping  his  sleeve  to  the 
smarting  organ,  he  rushed  outdoors  in  quest  of  cooling 
waters. 


The   Bar  S  211 

"  Things  ain't  changed  a  bit,"  observed  Red  as,  keep 
ing  both  hands  busy  the  while,  he  looked  about  him  with 
innocent  eyes. 

"  Neither  have  you,  yuh  walrus !  "  shrilled  the  Kid's 
Twin  from  across  the  table.  "  Dave,  that  road  agent  has 
glommed  yore  plate  an'  knife  an'  fork! " 

"  Thassall  right,"  Red  said  easily,  halting  a  forkful  of 
fried  ham  and  eggs  half-way  to  his  mouth.  "  Dave 
hadn't  used  'em  yet." 

The  fork  completed  its  journey.  Red  worked  his  jaws 
squirrel-wise  with  great  rapidity  and  winked  at  the  out 
raged  Dave,  who  was  guarding  his  coffee-cup  with  one 
hand  and  reaching  for  a  clean  plate  with  the  other. 

Chug!  Something  soft  and  squashy  struck  Red  in  the 
back  of  the  neck  as  he  was  in  the  act  of  stuffing  more  ham 
between  his  jaws.  Said  jaws  came  together  with  a  snap, 
and  tears  stood  in  Red's  eyes. 

"  I  guess  we're  even  now,"  chirped  the  Kid,  skipping 
round  the  table  and  hopping  nimbly  into  his  seat.  "  That 
potato  wasn't  as  soft  as  I'd  'a'  liked,  but  it  was  the  best 
I  could  find.  What's  the  matter,  Reddy?  Didn't  bite 
yore  cheek,  did  yuh?  " 

"  No-o,"  drawled  Red,  making  manful  effort  to  speak 
distinctly,  for  he  had  indeed  severely  bitten  his  cheek. 
"  No-o,  I  was  just  a-studyin'  whether .  I'd  feed  here 
with  the  animals  or  go  out  to  the  corral  an'  eat  with 
the  folks." 

"  You  better  stay  here,"  suggested  Bill  Holliday. 
"  You'll  feel  more  at  home." 

"  I  might  feel  plumb  at  home,"  said  Red,  "  if  Tim 
Page  would  stop  lookin'  at  me.  He  ain't  took  his  eyes 
off  me  since  I  come  in." 

"  You  bet  I  ain't,"  averred  Tim.  "  I  been  admirin' 
yore  leather  cuffs,  Red  —  yore  nice  new  leather  cuffs. 
They  look  a  lot  like  the  cuffs  I  asked  Old  Salt  to  get  for 
me  an'  he  told  you  to  get  instead." 


212  Lynch   Lawyers 

"Shore  they're  the  same  cuffs, '  Tim,"  Red  affirmed 
heartily.  "  I  like  'em  so  well  I'm  gonna  keep  'em  myself. 
I  know  you  won't  mind." 

"  Me  mind !  Oh,  no !  Which  I  got  a  nature  like  a 
suckin'  calf,  I'm  that  gentle.  An'  my  green  handker 
chief!  What  yuh  done  with  that?" 

"  I  got  that  too,"  Red  admitted  in  a  sorrowful  tone. 

"  I  know  yuh  have,  you  skinny  scoundrel !  I  had  my 
mouth  all  set  an'  waterin'  for  a  green  handkerchief,  an', 
when  I  heard  about  you  gettin'  all  gormed  up  in  yore 
battle  with  the  88,  I  pranced  down  to  Farewell  to  get  my 
own  stuff.  An'  it  ain't  to  be  got.  They  ain't  a  green 
handkerchief  within  four  hundred  miles,  an'  the  cuffs 
was  all  sold  out,  too.  An'  you  got  the  nerve  to  come  back 
here  an'  look  me  in  the  eye  after  glommin'  my  clo'es. 
Look  at  him,  gents.  He  thinks  it's  a  joke." 

"Well,  an'  ain't  it?"  defended  Red  warmly.  "The 
drinks  are  all  on  Tim.  I'll  leave  it  to  anybody.  Besides, 
leather  cuffs  an'  green  handkerchiefs  are  vain.  Next  Tim 
will  wanna  be  wearin'  them  ruffle-cum-tuffle  jiggers  on 
his  shirts  an'  tyin'  pink  ribbons  round  his  li'l  ears  all  same 
female  woman.  Didn't  you  get  a  letter  from  me,  Tim, 
with  yore  money  in  it?" 

"No,  I  didn't,  but  —  " 

"  Then  that's  all  right,  'cause  I  didn't  send  no  letter. 
So  I'll  give  yuh  yore  coin  when  I  get  through  eatin'. 
When's  the  coffee  comin',  anyway?  " 

It  came  at  that  instant  in  a  large  pot  borne  by  Jimmie 
the  cook. 

"  Yuh  might  know  Red  was  back,"  grinned  Jimmie. 
"  Soon  as  I  seen  the  Kid  run  out  holdin'  his  eye  an' 
rarin'  an'  swearin',  I  knowed  our  Reddy  had  come  home. 
An'  how  is  the  li'l  feller?  An'  has  he  been  a  good  boy 
while  he  was  away  from  papa?  Look  out,  you  fool! 
Leggomyleg!  Djuh  wanna  spill  the  coffee?  You  won't 
never  stop  bein'  a  id  jit,  Red,  will  yuh?  Serve  yuh  right 


The   Bar   S  213 

if  I'd  poured  the  coffee  down  yore  neck  and  burnt  yuh 
good.  Look  how  nice  brother's  behavin'.  He's  got 
manners,  he  has." 

"An'  why  wouldn't  he?  He  never  lived  with  you 
fellers  like  I  have.  Hell's  bells,  it's  a  wonder  to  me 
I'm  still  a  human  bein'.  Good  thing  I  ain't  here  no  more. 
Gimme  another  year  o'  the  Bar  S,  an'  I'd  be  gettin'  weak- 
minded  like  you,  Jimmy,  or  always  on  the  prod  like  Tim 
Page  over  nothin'.  Lordy,  it  shore  makes  me  shiver 
when  I  think  what  a  narrow  escape  I  had.  Is  that  a 
piece  o'  ham  yonder?  It  looks  like  ham.  It  cuts  like 
ham.  An'  it  tastes  like  ham.  What  could  be  fairer  than 
that?" 

"  Give  him  the  plate,  Dave,"  said  Jimmy  resignedly, 
"  so's  he  can  scrape  it.  They's  a  li'l  piece  o'  lean  in  one 
corner  an'  a  small  piece  o'  fat  in  another,  an'  I'd  hate 
for  him  to  miss  'em.  He  might  think  he  hadn't  had  a 
good  time  if  he  hadn't  ate  everythin'  in  sight." 

"  He  eats  like  that  Hollister  gent,"  said  Sam. 

"He  eats  faster,"  modified  Heckling  critically,  "but 
Hollister  opened  his  mouth  wider.  Hold  more,  too,  Hol 
lister  could." 

"  Hollister,"  repeated  Red  when  he  had  gulped  a 
mouthful.  "  Was  he  a  skinny  gent,  '  Hock,'  with  wide 
shoulders  an'  small  feet  ?  Don't  smile  much." 

"  He  didn't  smile  none  while  he  was  here,"  said  Hock- 
ling.  "  He  stayed  all  night." 

"When  was  he  here?" 

"  Last  Monday." 

"  D'he  say  where  he  was  goin'  ?  " 

"  He  didn't  say,  but  he  rode  away  south.  Why  ?  Is 
he  wanted?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.  Only  he  seems  to  'a'  got  the 
habit  of  eatin'  where  I  do,  an'  I  was  wonderin'.  He's  a 
association  detective  likely.  They're  always  roamin' 
round." 


214  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  But  they  ain't  no  rustlin'  goin'  on  here,"  objected  the 
Kid.  "  Maybe  he's  one  o'  them  road  agents." 

"  Every  time  the  Kid  sees  a  stranger,"  jeered  Dave 
Cantrell,  "  he  thinks  he  sees  a  road  agent  an'  goes  to 
loosenin'  his  six-shooter." 

"  He's  been  tryin'  to  organize  a  Vigilance  Committee 
for  a  month,"  supplemented  Buff  Warren.  "  But  so  far 
him  an'  the  Twin  are  the  only  members.  They're  shore 
bloodthirsty,  both  of  'em." 

"  Maybe  they're  right,  at  that,"  said  Red  judicially. 
"  I've  done  read  some'ers  where  children  are  supposed 
to  have  more  sense  than  regular  folks." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  both  children  cried  in  unison.  "  Is  that 
so  ?  You  wait  You  old  gran'pops  think  yo're  so  smart. 
You  just  wait.  We'll  have  us  a  road  agent,  maybe  a 
couple,  while  yo're  twiddlin'  yore  fat  thumbs." 

After  breakfast  Red  went  to  the  bunkhouse  and  packed 
his  few  belongings  in  his  saddle  pockets  and  cantinas. 
Carrying  his  warbags,  he  went  to  the  office  for  his  pay. 

Mr.  Saltoun  was  sitting  at  the  desk.  Tom  Loudon 
was  sitting  upon  it.  There  was  no  rancor  in  the  latter's 
greeting,  but  the  former  eyed  Red  grumpily. 

"  Yo're  a  dandy,"  said  Mr.  Saltoun.  "  I  told  you  to 
let  that  88  bunch  alone,  an'  now  we  got  all  the  makin's 
of  a  fine  an'  healthy  cattle  war  on  our  hands." 

"  You  let  my  brother  Tom  alone,"  grinned  Red,  "  an' 
he'll  kill  'em  all  off  for  yuh.  I'll  be  glad  to  help  myself, 
if  that'll  do  yuh  any  good." 

"  Helpin'  yoreself  always  was  yore  strong  play,  in  the 
grub  line  anyway,"  grunted  Mr.  Saltoun,  purposely  mis 
taking  Red's  meaning.  "  I  s'pose  yuh  want  yore  time." 

"  Me  ?  No-o,  not  for  a  minute.  What  do  I  care  for 
money  ?  Bag  o'  shells,  thassall  it  is,  like  I  heard  a  actress 
lady  say  once." 

"  I'm  laughin',"  Mr.  Saltoun  said  with  deep  sarcasm. 
"  I'm  laughin'  fit  to  split.  Tom,  will  yuh  draw  this  gent's 


The   Bar  S'  215 

check  before  I  choke?  My  Lord,  Red,  the  trouble  you 
unthinkin'  punchers  fall  into  is  amazin'.  How  a  man 
can  make  money  out  o'  cows,  I  don't  see.  Drought,  the 
itch  an'  blizzards,  an',  if  it  ain't  them,  it's  a  cattle  war. 
An'  everythin'  dear  as  the  devil.  Red,  that  infernal 
Piney  Jackson  sent  in  a  bill  for  that  buckboard  as  long 
as  my  arm." 

"  Piney  Jackson,  o'  course!  "  exclaimed  Red.  "  Now 
why  didn't  I  think  o'  that  before?  " 

"  I  wish  you  had,  then  maybe  you'd  'a'  tied  that  buck- 
board  some'ers  else  instead  o'  right  in  front  o'  that  stam- 
pedin'  stage." 

"  I  don't  mean  that.  But  Piney  —  Now,  you  an' 
him  was  in  the  army  together,  wasn't  you?  " 

"  We  went  through  the  Sioux  Campaign  o'  '68  —  '69 
together.  I  was  scout  for  Forsyth,  an'  he  was  a  black 
smith." 

"  Was  yuh  ever  at  Fort  Rackham,  Idaho?  " 

"  I  wasn't.  But  Piney  was  there  in  the  fall  of  70 
six  months  before  his  time  was  out.  He  like  to  froze 
more'n  once.  To  hear  him  tell  it  yuh'd  think  that  winter 
was  hard  just  on  his  account." 

"  Was  the  Third  Cavalry  at  Rackham  then?  " 

"  Shore.  Piney  was  transferred  to  the  Third.  Didn't 
I  say  so?" 

"  Not  till  now.  It  don't  matter.  Piney  Jackson !  O' 
course,  I'd  'a'  thought  of  him  later,  but  it  might  'a'  been 
too  late  then.  Good  thing  I  dropped  in  to-day.  I  was 
born  lucky,  I  guess." 

"  You  was  born  crazy,  more  like,"  Mr.  Saltoun  de 
clared  with  conviction.  "  What's  all  this  about  Piney 
Jackson?  What  yuh  talkin'  about,  anyway?  You  ain't 
drunk.  It's  too  early  in  the  mornin'  for  that.  Whatsa 
matter  with  yuh,  Red,  huh  ?  " 

"  Nemmine  whatsa  matter  with  me,"  grinned  Red. 
"  It's  a  secret.  I  got  troubles  of  my  own,  I  have,  an' 


2  1 6  Lynch   Lawyers 

they're  botherin'  me  plenty  like  rheumatics  in  gran'pop's 
left  leg.  Sometimes  I  just  dunno  what  I'm  gonna  do. 
Nawsir,  I  don't.  Blot  that  check  plumb  good  after  she's 
signed,  will  yuh,  Salt?  Yo're  writin's  so  bad  they's  no 
sense  in  makin'  it  worse." 

Red  and  Tom  were  miles  on  their  way  to  Farewell 
when  Mr.  Saltoun  made  the  unwelcome  discovery  that 
Telescope  Laguerre  had  not  returned. 

"  He  stayed  at  that  nester's  place  when  the  rest  o'  yuh 
left,  didn't  he?"  he  said  to  his  son-in-law.  "  An'  that 
no-account  good-for-nothin'-a-tall  Red  Kane  was  there 
too,  wasn't  he?  Well,  then  he's  gone  an'  got  Telescope 
into  some  devilment,  that's  what.  Aw,  you  can't  tell  me 
nothin'  about  Red  Kane.  When  you  first  told  me  about 
Telescope's  stayin'  behind,  Tom,  I  had  a  slinkin'  idea  they 
was  a  badger  in  the  hole  some'ers,  an'  now  I  know  it. 
Can't  you  do  nothin'  besides  laugh,  Tom?  Telescope's 

the  best  man  in  the  outfit  since  Red's  gone, the 

-  luck !  " 

At  nightfall  Red  and  Tom  were  sitting  amid  boulders 
at  the  mouth  of  a  small  draw  north  of  Indian  Ridge. 
From  where  they  sat  they  could  see  the  lights  of  Fare 
well  a-glint  across  the  wide  flat. 

"  Telescope  oughta  be  here  soon,"  muttered  Red. 

Tom  nodded.  It  was  too  hot  to  talk.  There  was  no 
breeze  stirring.  The  sun  had  gone  down  a  flaming  red 
disk.  The  indications  were  all  for  a  burning  hot  day  on 
the  morrow. 

Red  ran  a  slow  finger  round  the  inside  of  the  loosened 
collar  of  his  shirt  and  pulled  the  damp  flannel  away  from 
his  perspiring  skin.  He  took  off  his  neck-handkerchief 
and  fanned  his  hot  face  with  it.  The  said  neck-handker 
chief  was  a  cheap  and  utterly  chaste  blue  bandana  which 
had  taken  the  place  of  the  green  silk  sequestered  by  Miss 
Lenton. 
.  Red  did  not  like  the  blue  bandana.  It  may  be  said  that 


The   Bar  S  217 


he  loathed  it  with  a  great  loathing.  For  he  was  a  finicky 
individual  in  some  respects,  and  cotton  cloth  was  not  his 
idea  of  a  fitting  neck  covering.  Green  silk  now  —  But 
there  was  to  be  no  more  green  silk  ever  again.  Red  re- 
knotted  the  bandana  and  settled  his  shoulders  against  a 
ooulder.  He  straightened  quickly,  for  the  rock  still 
retained  much  of  the  sun's  heat. 

"  Burn  yoreself  ?  "  chuckled  Tom,  who  had  done  that 
very  thing  in  the  same  manner  a  moment  before. 

"  Burn  myself?  "  queried  Red.  "  Now  why  should  I 
burn  myself  on  this  nice  cool  rock.  Yo're  talkin'  foolish, 
man." 

Tom  made  no  retort.  Instead  he  inclined  his  head  as 
one  who  listens  to  sounds  afar  off. 

"  Telescope  comin',"  said  Tom. 

"Then  Telescope's  ridin'  more'n  one  hoss,"  ampli 
fied  Red,  listening  in  his  turn.  "  Le's  get  back  a  ways. 
They's  some  tamaracks  behind  these  boulders." 

Leading  their  horses,  they  withdrew  to  the  shelter  of 
the  tamaracks.  Here,  among  the  sticky  tree  trunks,  they 
waited  and  watched.  Their  fingers  gripped  the  noses  of 
their  horses.  For,  be  it  known,  the  horse  is  a  friendly 
animal  and  will  call  to  his  kind  upon  all  occasions. 

"  Don't  sound  like  they're  comin'  from  Farewell/'  haz 
arded  Tom. 

"  They  ain't,"  declared  Red.  "  More  out  o'  the  north 
west." 

"  They're  headin'  to  pass  right  near  them  boulders 
where  we  was  a-settin'.  Whadda  you  guess  ?  " 

"Yeah—  four  of  'em." 

The  approaching  horsemen  were  riding  at  a  slow  trot. 
The  moon  was  still  three  hours  under  the  horizon,  but  the 
starlight  was  bright  enough  to  reveal  the  dim  shapes  of 
four  riders  as  they  passed  in  single  file  the  boulder-strewn 
mouth  of  the  draw. 

The  leading  horse  stumbled  as  a  stone  rolled  under  an 


2  1 8  Lynch   Lawyers 

incautiously  placed  forefoot.  His  rider  jerked  him  up 
and  called  him  names.  His  tone  was  not  excessively 
loud.  But  Red  and  his  brother  heard  him  distinctly. 
They  were  not  twenty  yards  distant. 

The  four  shadowy  horsemen,  holding  religiously  to 
their  unhurried  gait,  disappeared  in  the  darkness.  The 
patter  of  the  hoofbeats  dwindled  and  died  away  to  the 
southeast. 

"  Sounded  like  Hollister's  voice,  kind  of,"  said  Tom, 
dropping  his  restraining  hand  from  the  nose  of  his  horse. 

"  Kind  of !  It  was  Hollister.  I've  heard  him  talk 
three-four  times.  He  seems  to  have  found  friends.  I 
wonder  what  his  business  is,  anyway  ?  " 

"  Yo're  gettin'  as  suspicious  as  the  Kid  an'  the  Kid's 
Twin.  Ain't  we  packin'  enough  trouble  without  worryin' 
about  Hollister?  He  ain't  done  nothin'  to  us.  Leave 
him  be.  We  got  a  man's-size  job  to  fuss  with,  feller;  so 
le's  wrastle  it." 

"  But  he  headed  south  from  the  Bar  S,  an'  now  here  he 
is  away  north  of  the  Bar  S  an'  headin'  southeast." 

"  She's  a  free  country.  It's  nothin'  against  a  man  if 
he  rides  the  range,  I  guess.  He  may  have  regular  busi 
ness.  Yuh  dunno." 

"  He  may  have,  an'  then  again  he  may  not.  All  right, 
all  right,  have  it  yore  own  way,  Tom.  Hollister's  a  tin 
he-saint  with  li'l  gold  eye-winkers  if  you  say  so.  Any- 
thin'  for  peace  an'  quiet.  She's  too  hot  to  argue." 

"  Then  don't  argue." 

"  I  ain't.  Ain't  I  said  I  ain't?  Hell's  bells,  three  of 
'em  in  a  row !  I  said  I'd  try  an'  do  better,  an'  I  clean  for 
got.  Hell's  bells,  I  dunno —  Lordy,  it's  harder'n  I 
thought." 

Red  rubbed  a  worried  forehead  and  kicked  a  tree  trunk. 

"  '  Three  of  'em  in  a  row,'  "  repeated  the  mystified 
Tom.  "  What  yuh  talkin'  about?  What  yuh  gonna  try 
an'  do  better?  What's  harder'n  you  thought?  If  yuh 


The   Bar  S  219 

mean  yore  face  yo're  out  o'  luck.  She's  always  been  that 
way,  an'  it  gets  harder  the  older  yuh  grow." 

"  Tom,"  said  Red  solemnly,  "  why  do  yuh  say  '  them 
things '  ?  " 

"Them  things  what?  I  ain't  said  nothin'  about  no 
things.  What  things  yuh  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  '  them,'  not  '  things.'     Don't  yuh  see?  " 

"  Not  for  a  minute  I  don't.  What  part  of  the  head  is 
the  pain  in?  Maybe  you  better  lie  down  a  spell.  Le's 
go  sit  down  anyway  —  back  where  we  was.  Maybe  it'll 
pass  off." 

"  You  don't  understand,"  persisted  Red,  following  Tom 
among  the  boulders.  "  I  mean  you'n  me  are  plumb  ig 
norant.  We  ain't  —  haven't  got  no  education." 

"Is  that  all?"  said  Tom  comfortably,  dropping  full 
length  on  a  patch  of  grass.  "  Is  that  what's  makin'  you 
talk  so  funny?  I  thought  you  was  sick  or  somethin'. 
Shore,  we  got  education.  Can't  we  read  an'  write,  huh? 
An'  rigger  riggers  too.  What  more  education  do  we 
need'n  that,  I'd  like  to  know  ?  Education !  You  talk  like 
yo're  loco,  Red." 

"  An'  they's  somethin'  else,"  pursued  Red,  hot  upon 
his  subject.  "  We  cuss  an'  swear  alia  time.  We  don't 
open  our  mouths  but  what  we  cuss  high,  wide  an'  fre 
quent.  That  ain't  no  way  to  do,  Tom.  Ain't  you  got 
no  decency?  " 

"  Plenty.  I  got  so  much  it  hurts  like  a  cramp.  Yo're 
lettin'  that  girl  honey-fuggle  yuh,  Red.  She's  been 
a-talkin'  to  yuh.  I  can  see  that  as  plain  as  the  W  G  R 
brand,  an'  that  takes  up  the  whole  side  of  a  cow.  When 
yuh  gonna  quit  smokin'  an'  drinkin'  an'  all?  This  here 
love  business  is  shore  the  devil !  " 

"  Yeah,  oh,  yeah,  shore  an'  y'bet  yuh,"  sneered  Red. 
"  Yuh  know  yo're  a-talkin'  thisaway  alia  time  'cause  no 
woman  would  look  at  yuh,  yuh  frazzled  end  of  a  misspent 
life.  Yo're  jealous,  that's  whatsa  matter." 


22O  .    Lynch   Lawyers 

"  Jealous  ?  Jealous  ?  "  Tom  cackled  scornfully. 
"Jealous  of  you?  Don't  make  me  laugh!  Which  I'd 
as  soon  be  jealous  o'  one  o'  my  mules.  Sooner,  come  to 
think.  You  can  teach  a  mule  somethin'.  Couldn't  teach 
you  nothin'  in  forty  years." 

"  If  you  was  the  teacher,  it  would  shore  take  longer 'n 
that.  Yessir,  Tom,  yo're  a  low-down  miserable  worm. 
Yo're  so  lowdown  an'  so  miserable  you  ain't  even  fit  for 
bait,  an'  the  funny  part  is  you  dunno  it.  Yo're  satisfied  to 
be  a  worm  with  nothin'  in  sight  when  yuh  git  old  an' 
skinny  but  false  teeth  and  rheumatics.  No  li'l  home  an'  a 
wife  for  Tom  Kane.  Nawsir,  he'd  rather  be  a  worm  an' 
slime  round  with  the  other  reptyles." 

"  You  bet  he  would !  "  cried  the  thoroughly  provoked 
Tom.  "  He  ain't  no  fool,  whatever  else  he  is,  you  can 
gamble  on  that !  But  you  go  on  an'  get  married  an'  have 
yore  wife  an'  yore  home  if  yuh  wanna.  Go  to  yore  finish 
any  way  yuh  like.  I  ain't  sayin'  a  word,  not  a  word.  I 
guess  maybe  I  got  somethin'  to  do,  besides  lookout  yore 
game,  old  settler.  Quit  that  now.  Don't  yuh  heave  no 
more  pebbles,  or  I'll  —  " 

"  W'at  ees  de  mattair?"  interrupted  a  disapproving 
voice  at  their  backs.  "  You  was  mak'  a  noise  so  I  was 
hear  you  'way  off  yonder,  un  you  was  not  hear  me  w'en 
I  ride  een  un  tie  my  pony  een  de  tamarack.  You  have 
de  shut  ear,  by  gar." 

"  Tom's  always  gettin'  loud,  Telescope,"  said  Red  as 
the  half-breed  noiselessly  slid  up  and  squatted  down  be 
tween  them.  "  Yuh  know  how  his  tongue  works  when 
he's  excited  over  anythin'.  He's  gotta  tell  the  neigh 
bors  all  about  it  too.  I  spoke  to  him  several  times, 
but  —  " 

"  Aw,  shut  up,  Red.  Le's  hear  what  Telescope's  got 
to  say." 

"  Jake  ees  steel  at  Cutter,"  said  Telescope,  "  un  dem 
tree  strangair  dey  hang  roun'  de  jail  all  tam.  Kansas 


The   Bar  S  221 

Casey  stay  wit'  dem,  bien  sur.  Dey  are  not  many  pony 
tie  to  de  heetchin'-rail —  aw,  ten,  mabbeso." 

Red  looked  eastward. 

"  The  moon  won't  rise  for  three  hours,"  he  said. 
"  Let's  go." 


CHAPTER    TWENTY-THREE 

THE    CALABOOSE 

THEY  mounted  and  fetched  a  wide  semicircle  about 
Farewell.  Approaching  the  town  from  the  west,  they 
proceeded  with  great  caution  to  the  rear  of  Tom  Kane's 
corral.  Here  they  dismounted,  and  Tom  Kane  brought 
Jack  Owens'  saddle  from  the  house  and  cinched  it  on  his 
toughest  animal,  a  wise  strawberry-roan  with  a  hammer 
head. 

"  I  hope  Bill  Lainey  won't  come  pilin'  over  for  a  last 
look  before  turnin'  in,"  whispered  Tom,  tucking  in  the 
loose  end  of  the  cinch  strap. 

"  It'd  be  just  like  him,"  returned  Red.  "  You'd  oughta 
got  Mike  Flynn  to  look  after  yore  hosses.  He's  always 
busy  in  the  evenin'." 

Some  one  turned  the  corner  of  Tom  Kane's  house  and 
came  toward  the  corral.  The  footsteps  were  shufflingly 
heavy.  The  man's  breathing  was  as  heavy  as  his  walk. 
They  heard  him  say  aloud  in  wheezing  tones : 

"  I  know  I  closed  the  gate.     I  know  I  did." 

Tom  and  Telescope  froze  to  their  horses'  heads.  Red, 
nearest  to  the  partly  closed  gate,  tiptoed  across  the  corral 
toward  it.  He  made  no  attempt  to  lift  the  lever  hanging 
by  its  yard-long  wire.  Instead,  he  crouched  beside  the 
gate  and  waited,  one  doubled  fist  resting  knuckles  down 
upon  the  ground. 

"  I  hate  to  do  it,"  he  thought.     "  I  shore  do,  but  —  " 

The  man  stopped  at  the  gate  and,  standing  a  little  side- 
wise,  put  his  hand  upon  the  top  crossbar.  Red  Kane 


The   Calaboose  223 

straightened  his  long  body  with  a  jerk  and  drove  his  hard 
fist  accurately  home  beneath  the  man's  left  ear.  The 
man  dropped  like  a  mauled  steer  and  lay  spread-eagled, 
his  face  to  the  sky  and  his  feet  in  a  cluster  of  bitterweed. 

"  Bill  Lainey,  shore,"  whispered  Red  in  answer  to  his 
brother's  low-voiced  question.  "  He'll  be  out  for  ten 
minutes.  We  gotta  gag  him.  This  stick'll  do.  Naw, 
not  yore  handkerchief,  Tom.  They  could  trace  that. 
Take  his.  Ease  him  over  so's  we  can  get  his  suspenders 
off.  They'll  do  to  tie  his  feet  with.  Lordy,  ain't  he  a 
fat  lummox !  .  .  .  Huh  ?  Haf ta  rip  his  sleeves  out.  Shore, 
tear  'em  in  two,  an'  they'll  be  long  enough  to  tie  his  hands 
together.  Here,  lemme  do  it,  butter-fingers ! " 

"  Butter-fingers  yoreself !  "  snarled  Tom.  "  I'm  doin' 
this.  Get  that  cayuse  out.  Want  me  to  do  everythin'  ?  " 

Red,  having  attained  his  object,  snickered  and  crossed 
to  the  strawberry-roan.  He  led  the  horse  through  the 
gate,  round  the  corner  of  the  corral  and  ranged  him  with 
the  other  three  animals  at  the  rear. 

Red  returned  to  the  corral  and  looked  up  at  the  inverted 
bowl  of  the  star-speckled  sky.  Then  he  lowered  his  gaze 
to  where  the  black  mass  of  Farewell's  buildings  cut  jag- 
gedly  across  one  side  of  the  bowl. 

The  town  was  quiet  —  too  quiet.  It  was  early  in  the 
evening,  barely  nine  by  the  clock,  yet  sounds  of  roistering 
were  few.  At  the  least  voices  of  three  or  four  merry  rev 
elers  should  have  been  audible,  but  at  that  moment  Gallo 
way,  the  bibulous  father  of  Sam  Brown  Galloway,  was  the 
sole  individual  moved  to  sing.  He  was  no  more  than  half 
drunk  either,  for  he  was  singing  the  "  Little  Brown 
Jug."  Blind  drunk  he  either  sang  hymns  or  prayed  in 
a  loud  voice. 

Red  Kane  would  have  been  better  pleased  to  hear  a 
hymn  tune,  for  the  singer  seemed  to  be  drawing  near. 
He  was  coming  through  the  narrow  space  between  the 
blacksmith  shop  and  Piney  Jackson's  house. 


224  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  The  rose  is  red, 
My  nose  is,  too. 
The  violet's  blue, 
An' " 

Thud!  The  singer  had  undoubtedly  tripped  and  fallen 
upon  his  face.  He  got  to  his  feet,  calling  upon  his  Maker, 
and  proceeded  at  half  speed.  It  is  to  be  supposed  that 
his  course  was  erratic.  Red  heard  him  bump  the  corner 
of  the  blacksmith  shop  and  a  minute  later  fall  over  Piney 
Jackson's  wheelbarrow  which  stood  to  the  left  some 
twenty  yards. 

In  spite  of  the  seriousness  of  the  situation  Red  chuck 
led;  then  he  went  instantly  cold  with  apprehension,  for 
Galloway  was  without  doubt  fighting  the  wheelbarrow. 
It  was  one  of  Piney's  valued  possessions.  The  black 
smith  might  be  at  home.  He  might  come  out.  He  might 
investigate.  And  Piney  Jackson  could  not  be  handled  as 
easily  as  Bill  Lainey.  It  was  borne  in  upon  Red  that 
Galloway  must  be  abolished. 

He  slid  round  the  corner  of  the  corral  and  ran  full  tilt 
into  his  brother  Tom.  The  latter  grunted,  gasped  and 
sat  down,  holding  his  stomach  with  both  hands. 

"  Ah  —  Ow,"  groaned  Tom,  rocking  his  body. 
"  Knock-wind  —  ow-wow-out-o'-mum-me." 

The  unsympathetic  Red  did  not  halt.  He  continued 
on  his  groping  way  toward  the  spot  where  feet  stamped 
and  wood  was  splintering.  Lord,  if  Piney  should  come 
upon  the  scene ! 

Smash!  Crash!  Galloway  lifted  the  wheelbarrow 
aloft  and  brought  it  down  hard  upon  the  ground. 

"  There,  —  "  began  Galloway  viciously. 

That  was  as  far  as  he  went  with  that  sentence,  for  the 
barrel  of  Red  Kane's  six-shooter  smote  him  across  the 
top  of  his  flat-roofed  skull,  and  he  fell  senseless  upon  the 
wreck  of  the  wheelbarrow. 


The   Calaboose  225 

"  Who's  there  ?  "  demanded  a  woman's  voice  from  a 
kitchen  window  of  Piney's  house. 

Red  thanked  Heaven  that  it  was  not  the  blacksmith 
making  inquiries  and  oozed  backward  softly  as  a  cat. 

•"Who's  there?" 

The  woman's  tone  was  more  insistent.  Also  her  voice 
was  louder.  Red  turned  and  fled  on  tiptoe  as  Mrs.  Jack 
son  reiterated  her  request  for  information. 

At  the  corner  of  the  corral  he  found  his  brother  stand 
ing  up  and  in  a  very  bad  temper. 

"  Helluva  note !  "  Tom  said  in  his  ear.  "  My  stom 
ach  won't  be  right  for  a  week.  Why'n't  yuh  look  where 
yo're  goin'  'stead  o'  bullin'  along  hell-bent  and  knockin' 
folks  silly?  I've  a  good  mind —  Whajja  wake  Mis' 
Jackson  up  for,  yuh  numskull?  She'll  yell  a  week  now. 
I  s'pose  you  thought  yuh'd  make  my  job  easier,  didn't 
yuh?" 

"I  couldn't  help  it  if  Galloway  was  drunk,  could  I? 
He'd  'a'  fell  over  Bill  Lainey  before  we  could  move  him 
if  I  hadn't  bent  a  gun  on  his  head.  There,  she's  stopped 
a-squallin'  an'  closed  the  window.  We  gotta  move,  Tom. 
Y'all  right  now?" 

"  Oh,  shore.  I  feel  fine.  Wait  till  all  this  here's  over, 
I'll  make  yuh  sweat  for  what  I've  gone  through.  My 
own  barn  too.  Lookit  here,  Red,  the  more  I  think  o' 
this  the  less  I  like  it.  S'pose  now  the  town  goes  up. 
Everythin's  dry  as  a  covered  bridge.  An'  Kennedy's 
barn'll  catch.  S'pose  —  " 

"  They  ain't  no  s'posin',"  declared  Red  as  fiercely  as 
whispering  would  permit.  "  We  gotta  do  it  my  way. 
She's  the  only  wagon-track  out,  Tom.  Ain't  I  thought  it 
all  out  careful?  We  gotta  do  it,  I  tell  yuh.  We  gotta. 
The  town  won't  catch.  They's  a  li'l  breeze,  an'  she's  east. 
Kennedy's  barn  won't  go.  They'll  save  her  if  they  work 
hard.  If  his  barn  does  go,  it  can't  be  helped,  an'  he's  out 
o'  luck,  thassall." 


226  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  Aw  right,  aw  right,"  said  Tom.  "  Lookit  now,  you 
leave  my  hoss  under  the  cutbank  by  the  spruce  like  we  said 
—  under  the  bank,  yuh  hear,  where  they  won't  be  no  dan 
ger  o'  folks  seein'  him  in  the  light." 

"  Shore,  shore,  an'  don't  wait  for  me  in  them  tamaracks 
more'n  a  hour.  If  I  ain't  there  by  then,  ride  into  town. 
But  I'll  be  there.  Here —  Hey!  wait  a  shake,  Tom. 
Where's  the  ax?  You  done  forgot  to  get  me  it." 

Tom  swore  under  his  breath  and  started  toward  the 
house.  In  two  minutes  he  was  back. 

"  Here,"  he  whispered,  thrusting  the  handle  of  the  ax 
into  Red's  hand.  "  We'd  ought  to  cut  down  Telescope's 
time.  We  don't  want  to  wait  too  long,  an'  we've  been 
held  back  a  lot  already." 

"  Can't  be  did.  He's  gotta  have  the  full  ten  minutes. 
He  can't  just  get  in  town  an'  then  have  things  start  a- 
poppin'.  She  wouldn't  look  natural,  nawsir." 

"  Aw  right.  You  know  it  all.  Have  it  yore  own  way. 
Ten  minutes !  Don't  talk  to  me !  Shut  up !  In  ten  min 
utes  by  countin'  I  scratch  that  match." 

Tom  melted  into  the  darkness.  Red  waited  till  he  heard 
the  gentle  creak  of  an  opening  barn  door;  then  he  went 
along  the  corral  stockade  till  he  came  to  where  Telescope 
stood  with  the  four  horses. 

"  All  ready,  Telescope,"  he  whispered.     "  Let's  go." 

Telescope  and  his  mount  vanished  like  smoke.  Red 
cocked  an  ear  toward  the  Jackson  residence.  Hearing  no 
sound,  he  led  the  three  remaining  horses  rapidly  to  his 
left  front  till  he  came  to  the  cutbank  above  which  grew 
a  lone  spruce  tree.  Here,  below  the  cutbank,  he  tied 
Tom's  horse  to  a  naked  root.  At  the  top  of  the  bank,  two 
bridles  in  the  crook  of  his  arm,  he  paused  to  listen. 

Tuckety-tuck,  tuckety-tuck.  A  horseman  was  riding 
up  Main  Street.  The  hoofbeats  stilled  in  the  neighbor 
hood  of  the  Happy  Heart  Saloon. 

"Telescope,"  murmured  Red,  and  started  onward  hast- 


The   Calaboose  227 

ily  —  but  not  so  hastily  as  he  began  to  move  when  some 
forty-five  seconds  later  a  woman's  wild  shriek  tore  the 
silence  into  shreds.  The  shriek  was  followed  by  others 
no  less  wild. 

The  shrieks  came  from  the  direction  of  the  Jackson 
residence.  Red  guessed  —  and,  as  he  discovered  later, 
guessed  correctly  —  that  Mrs.  Jackson,  on  her  way  to 
investigate  the  cause  of  the  disturbance  that  had  broken 
her  early  slumber,  had  stumbled  upon  the  body  of  the 
senseless  Galloway. 

Red,  abandoning  caution  so  far  as  moving  silently  was 
concerned,  boarded  his  mount  and  rammed  home  the 
spurs.  Behind  a  tree-checkered  fold  in  the  landscape  di 
rectly  in  rear  of  the  Farewell  jail  he  dragged  his  horse  to 
a  halt.  Encumbered  as  he  was  by  the  heavy  ax,  Red, 
because  the  strawberry-roan  he  was  leading  did  not  stop 
on  the  dot,  narrowly  escaped  a  trampling. 

He  made  fast  the  two  horses  to  the  trunks  of  separate 
cedars  and  scuttled  through  the  scattering  trees  up  and 
over  the  rising  ground.  As  he  topped  the  crest,  came  a 
sparkle  of  light  on  his  right  hand.  A  flicker,  a  flare,  a 
flame  that  leaped,  and  the  barn  of  Tom  Kane  was  ablaze. 

"  Two  minutes  ahead  of  time !  "  panted  Red  resentfully 
and  ran  a  trifle  faster. 

It  was  a  long  two  hundred  yards  from  where  the  horses 
were  tied  to  the  jail,  but  Red's  time  for  three-quarters  of 
the  distance  would  not  have  disgraced  a  trained  and  fit 
track  man. 

Forty  yards  from  the  jail,  in  a  discouraged  growth  of 
scraggly  bushes,  Red  stopped.  There  was  a  lighted  win 
dow  in  the  rear  room  of  the  jail.  Red  fingered  the  broad 
back  of  the  ax-head  and  waited,  his  eyes  on  the  lighted 
window.  A  long  rectangle  to  the  right  of  the  shorter 
one  suddenly  sprang  into  bright  relief.  Some  one  had 
opened  the  door. 

The  some  one  stood  in  the  doorway.     The  some  one 


228  Lynch    Lawyers 

was  Kansas  Casey.  Behind  Kansas  Casey  were  other 
men.  Red  could  not  be  certain  of  their  number.  The 
lights  and  shadows  were  baffling. 

All  up  and  down  Main  Street  folk  were  uttering  hearty 
bawls  of  "  Fire !  "  that  quite  drowned  the  screams  of  Mrs. 
Jackson. 

The  barn  was  burning  finely  now.  The  flames  fed  on 
the  dry  logs  and  shakes  as  on  match-wood.  They 
whipped  up  the  end  wall  and  snapped  across  the  roof  in 
bursts  of  vivid  orange  that  crackled  and  coughed  and 
tossed  on  high  their  showers  of  sparks. 

A  little  breeze  was  blowing  the  sparks  away  from  the 
town,  but  toward  Kennedy's  barn.  Red  sincerely  hoped 
that  Kennedy  wouldn't  lose  his  barn.  He  had  no  desire 
to  pay  Kennedy  as  well  as  Tom. 

"  Dees  way !     Dees  way !     We  gotta  save  de  barn !  " 

Red  recognized  in  the  stentorian  shout  the  voice  of 
Telescope  Laguerre.  The  half-breed  was  doing  his  part 
exactly  by  the  book. 

Against  the  light  of  the  flames  Red  saw  the  figures  of 
running  men.  The  men  called  and  shouted  one  to  an 
other,  but  ever  above  their  cries  sounded  the  thundering 
bellow  of  Telescope  Laguerre,  urging,  exhorting,  advis 
ing,  whooping  on  the  fire-fighters. 

It  was  then  that  Kansas  Casey  left  his  post  on  the  door- 
sill  of  the  calaboose  and  hurried  toward  the  fire.  One  of 
the  men  who  had  stood  at  his  back  in  the  doorway  fol 
lowed.  The  other  two  —  Red  could  see  now  that  they 
were  but  two,  and  these  two  were  Billy  Bruff  and  Tom 
Lumley  —  stepped  outside  and  stood  with  thumbs  tucked 
behind  their  belts,  gazing  at  the  blaze. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  waiting  longer. 
Red  gripped  the  ax  and  slid  obliquely  through  the  bushes 
toward  the  rear  of  the  two  observers. 

Nothing  is  quite  so  engrossing  as  a  conflagration.  Or 
dinarily  wide-awake,  hard-headed  citizens  of  the  world 


The   Calaboose  229 

become  oblivious  to  everything  but  the  fascinating  flames 
when  watching  a  fire.  So  it  was  with  Mr.  Lumley  and 
Mr.  Bruff.  They  had  not  the  slightest  idea  that  any  one 
wishing  them  evil  was  in  their  vicinity  till  a  pleasant  voice 
behind  them  said : 

"  Reach  up  an'  grab  yore  ears." 

Mr.  Lumley  and  Mr.  Bruff  came  alive  on  the  jump. 
They  reached  up  and  seized  the  lobes  of  their  ears  — 
seized  them  with  enthusiasm  as  if  they  feared  the  valued 
organs  were  on  the  point  of  departure. 

"  Le's  slide  into  the  jail  now,"  continued  the  voice, 
"  an'  le's  be  gentle  about  it.  Le's,  not  have  no  pullin' 
at  no  guns.  Mister  Lumley  will  go  first.  No,  wait  till 
I  give  the  word.  When  Mister  Lumley  crosses  the  sill, 
he  will  throw  up  his  hands  just  as  high  as  he  can  reach. 
Mister  Bruff  will  do  the  same.  Start,  an'  don't  hurry." 

Mr.  Lumley  and  Mr.  Bruff  entered  the  lamplit  room 
with  careful  slowness.  They  might  have  been  walking 
on  eggs.  Under  the  shepherding  of  Red  Kane  they 
shuffled  across  the  room  and  aligned  themselves  side  by 
side  against  the  wall. 

"  I'd  stick  my  hands  a  li'l  higher,  Mister  Lumley,  if 
I  was  you,"  suggested  Mr.  Kane. 

The  Rock  County  sheriff  reached  frantically  toward 
the  ceiling.  Red  Kane,  although  his  captives  could  not 
see  him,  nodded  approvingly. 

"  Keep  a-doin'  that  an'  you'll  be  all  right,"  he  drawled. 
"  Charmin'  Billy  with  the  whiskers  will  now  oblige  the 
audience  by  takin'  off  his  belt  an'  droppin'  it  on  the  floor 
—  all  without  malice  aforethought  an'  reachin'  for  his 
artillery.  You  hear  me,  William  ?  " 

William  obeyed  nervously.  Belt  and  gun  dropped  to 
the  floor  with  a  swish  and  a  thump.  William  shot  his 
hands  aloft  without  being  told. 

"  Now,  Thomas,  do  like  Charmin'  Billy  done,"  said 
Mr.  Kane  quietly  —  no  one  could  have  guessed  from  his 


230  Lynch   Lawyers 

manner  and  speech  that  he  stood  in  peril  of  his  life. 
"  That's  right,  Thomas.  Up  with  them  paws,  Thomas. 
Don't  try  to  gamble  with  me,  Thomas.  You'll  only  try, 
thassall.  '  If  at  first  you  don't  succeed,  try,  try  again  ', 
is  one  fine  rule,  old-timer,  but  it  won't  work  against  my 
six-shooter.  I  will  now  pick  up  yore  belts  an'  guns. 
Don't  move.  I  can  get  'em.  Don't  turn  round.  Keep 
them  noses  flat  against  the  wall.  If  they's  splinters  in 
the  wood,  yo're  out  o'  luck.  Have  yuh  got  the  key  to 
the  calaboose  door,  Thomas  ?  " 

"  No,"  growled  Thomas. 

"  Next,  Charmin'  Billy,"  pursued  the  good-natured 
voice. 

"  I  ain't  got  it, you !  "  snapped  Charming 

Billy. 

"  Such  language,"  said  Red  reprovingly.  '  You  must 
think  yo're  at  home,  Charmin'  Billy.  I  s'pose  now  Kan 
sas  has  the  key  —  both  keys,  inside  and  outside,  huh  ?, 
He  has?  I  thought  that  would  be  the  way  of  it;  so  I 
brought  a  key  with  me.  Charmin'  Billy,  step  back  three 
steps  without  turnin'  round." 

Charming  Billy  complied  with  the  request.  Red  Kane 
tossed  the  ax  past  him  against  the  wall. 

"  They's  the  key  I  brought,"  he  continued.  "  Pick  her 
up  an'  smash  the  lock." 

Billy  Bruff  went  at  the  task  with  vim.  He  smashed 
lock  and  bolt  and  nosing  with  three  heavy  blows  and 
crashed  the  door  wide  open.  Like  a  jack-in-the-box  Ben 
Lenton  appeared  in  the  doorway. 

"  Don't  turn  round !  "  Red  Kane  reminded  Billy  Bruff. 
"  Drop  that  ax  an'  flip  up  them  hands.  Now  get  back 
alongside  yore  friend.  Ben,  would  you  mind  lookin'  in 
the  drawer  o'  that  table  an'  roustin'  out  a  couple  o'  pair 
of  handcuffs?  Jake  keeps  'em  there,  or  he  used  to." 

Ben  Lenton  jerked  the  drawer  open  and  dragged  out 
two  clinking  pairs  of  door-hinge  handcuffs. 


The   Calaboose  231 

"  Stick  yore  hands  in  back  of  yuh,  you  two,"  ordered 
Red  Kane. 

Lumley  and  Bruff  obeyed  with  exemplary  meekness. 
Ben  Lenton  did  his  duty.  The  captives,  hands  clasped 
behind  them,  swayed  a  little  on  their  feet. 

"  I  know  yore  voice,  Kane,"  said  Lumley,  "  an'  I  can 
swear  to  it.  So  can  Bruit".  You  needn't  think  just  be 
cause  you  won't  let  us  turn  round  yo're  gonna  get  away 
with  this." 

"  I  never  think,"  was  the  placid  rejoinder.  "  I  dunno 
how.  I  leave  that  for  bright  li'l  fellers  like  you  sports. 
Ben,  they's  a  rope  yonder  in  the  corner.  I  dunno  but  — " 

Here  he  suddenly  bethought  him  of  the  figure  cut  by 
Mrs.  Jackson  when  the  window  fell  on  her  neck  the  day 
of  the  runaway  stage  teams.  He  laughed  sardonically. 

"  Here's  a  better  idea,"  he  went  on.  "  Slide  over  to  the 
window,  you  fellers.  No,  the  side  window.  Lay  yore 
Adam's  apples  on  the  sill.  Go'n,  lay  'em  down.  What- 
cha  scared  of?  The  sill  ain't  sharp.  That's  the  boy. 
Ben,  s'pose  now  you  knock  out  the  brace  that  holds  up 
the  sash." 

Lenton  had  the  brace  in  his  hand  in  a  split  second. 
The  sash  —  it  was  a  freely  running  window  —  came 
down  with  a  crumph-h.  The  snared  ones  kicked  out  like 
bee-stung  horses. 

"  That  window  moved  pretty  easy,"  observed  Red, 
eying  it  thoughtfully.  "  Guess  we  better  wedge  it 
tight."  < 

So  with  the  prisoners'  own  pocket  knives  they  wedged 
the  window. 

"  Let's  go,"  said  Red,  and  he  picked  up  the  ax. 

They  went  hurriedly.  Away  to  the  left  they  saw,  as 
they  crossed  the  open  ground  between  the  jail  and  the 
patch  of  brush,  the  burning  barn  flaring  redly.  There 
were  shouting  and  noise,  and  men  ceased  not  to  carry 
and  pour  buckets  of  water. 


232  Lvnch   Lawyers 

Once  past  the  edge  of  the  brush  the  posts  of  the  Happy 
Heart  corral  would  be  between  them  and  the  fire  and  its 
spectators.  When  they  ran  in  among  the  swishing 
bushes,  a  man  rose  up  from  under  their  feet.  Red  per 
ceived  just  in  time  that  it  was  his  brother  Tom. 

"  Next  time  holler !  "  he  exclaimed  with  irritation, 
sheathing  his  Colt.  "  You  might  'a'  got  plugged." 

"  Shut  up,"  was  the  amiable  return.  "  Keep  a-goin', 
keep  a-goin' !  " 

They  arrived  among  the  horses  somewhat  blown  as  to 
the  lungs  and  shaky  as  to  the  legs. 

"  Lookit  here,"  began  Lenton,  who  till  the  present  mo 
ment  had  not  spoken,  "  lookit  here,  gents.  I  can't  say  — " 

"  Don't  say  it  then,"  advised  Red  earnestly,  desirous  of 
forestalling  possible  thanks.  "  They  ain't  no  time,  any 
way.  You  climb  on  that  cayuse  there  —  yeah,  the  one 
with  the  monkey-nose  taps  —  an'  ride  due  east  till  yuh 
come  in  sight  of  a  bald-headed  mountain  with  an  easy- 
slopin'  top.  That's  Triangle  Mountain  a-stickin'  up  over 
where  the  Fallin'  Horse  runs  into  the  Lazy.  Keep  a- 
goin'  an'  ford  the  Lazy  above  the  Fallin'  Horse  about 
five  miles  at  the  south  end  of  a  round-backed  ridge. 
Yo're  across  the  Lazy  now  an'  the  ridge  is  on  yore  right. 
From  there  you'll  see  three  crackin'  ol'  peaks  in  a  row 
like  off  to  the  southwest,  an'  beyond  'em  a  sawtooth 
range.  Them  three  big  peaks  are  the  Three  Sisters,  an' 
the  sawtooth  range  is  the  Three  Sisters  Range,  an',  when 
you  get  past  them  three  peaks  in  among  that  tangle  o' 
mountains  an'  canons,  you'll  be  as  safe  as  a  flea  on  a 
long-haired  dog.  You  go  there  an'  stay  there.  They's 
plenty  deer  when  yuh  run  short  o'  bacon  —  " 

"  I  put  two  sides  in  the  off  saddle  pocket,"  interrupted 
Tom. 

"  So  yuh'll  make  out  all  right,"  continued  Red. 
"  They's  coffee,  sugar  an'  such  in  the  cantinas  an'  ten 
boxes  o'  rifle  cartridges  an'  five  for  yore  six-shooter. 


The   Calaboose  233 

They's  a  six-shooter  in  one  of  the  saddle  pockets  an'  a 
Winchester  tied  to  the  saddle  strings.  We  didn't  have 
no  scabbard." 

"  Gents  —  "  Lenton  began  again. 

"  Wait  a  shake,"  Red  pursued  rapidly.  "  Here's  a  li'l 
calendar.  Every  tenth  day  in  the  month  —  like  the  tenth, 
twentieth,  an'  thirtieth,  see  —  you  come  down  in  the  foot 
hills  along  the  Fallin'  Horse  where  you  can  get  a  sight 
o'  Triangle  Mountain.  When  you  see  a  smoke  on  top  o' 
Triangle,  you  come  straight  home  to  yore  shack  by  Sweet- 
water,  'cause  everythin'll  be  all  right.  Mind  yuh  now, 
that  smoke  may  not  be  the  first  tenth  day,  nor  the  second 
nor  third,  an'  it  mayn't  come  in  the  second  month  even, 
but  it'll  come,  an'  yuh  can  stick  a  pin  in  that.  Naw,  naw, 
now.  Don't  say  nothin'.  They  ain't  time.  Yo're  all 
right,  an'  yore  daughter's  all  right,  an'  everything  gonna 
come  out  all  right.  Nemmine  how.  It  will.  Git  aboard, 
Ben.  Did  yuh  remember  all  them  directions  ?  Aw  right, 

git." 


CHAPTER    TWENTY-FOUR 

ONE   DOWN 

RED  and  Tom  dismounted  among  the  boulders  at  the 
mouth  of  the  little  draw  where  the  tamaracks  grew.  Red 
dropped  the  reins  over  his  horse's  nose  and,  lying  down 
on  his  back,  clasped  his  hands  behind  his  head  and  stared 
with  half-closed  eyes  at  the  stars. 

"  Lordy,"  he  sighed,  "  this  is  somethin'  like  comfort. 
I  need  a  rest.  I've  done  been  a-workin'  my  head  off  since 
mornin'." 

"  Har,  har,"  Tom  barked  in  a  repressed  tone,  "  an'  har, 
har  once  more.  You  need  a  rest !  You've  been  a-workin' 
yore  head  off !  That's  good,  that  is !  An'  what  have  the 
rest  of  us  been  doin',  I'd  like  to  know?  " 

"Oh,  yuh've  done  all  right,"  Red  drawled.  "But, 
Lordy,  Tom,  how  could  yuh  help  doin'  all  right  ?  Didn't 
I  plan  it  out  for  yuh  so  careful  a  two-year-old  baby 
couldn't  'a'  made  a  mistake?  Didn't  I?  'Course  I  did. 
Do  I  hear  yuh  say  '  yes  '  ?  I  don't  hear  yuh  say  '  yes/ 
Yo're  jealous  again,  thassall.  If  I  had  yore  disagreeable 
nature,  I'd  go  drown  it  some'ers.  Stop  jabbin'  me  in 
the  ribs,  yuh  Siwash !  Ouch,  that  quirt's  got  a  nail  in  the 
handle,  an'  my  ribs  ain't  iron.  If  you  tear  my  shirt,  I'll 
shore  clout  yuh  one  on  the  snoozer.  Lemme  alone,  will 
yuh?  I'll  kick  yuh  good,  I  will.  Told  yuh  I  would.  I'm 
glad  it  is  yore  funny-bone.  Serves  yuh  right.  I'll  crack 
the  other  one  next  time,  an'  I'll  bet  yuh  tore  my  shirt.  If 
I  wasn't  so  comfortable,  I'd  look,  an'  if  it  was  tore,  I'd 
scalp  you  prompt  if  not  sooner.  What  was  yuh  doin'  in 


One   Down  235 

that  patch  o'  brush,  Tom  ?  Why  didn't  yuh  ride  straight 
here?" 

"  'Cause  I  didn't  know  how  yuh  was  gonna  come  out 
with  them  two  sharps,"  replied  the  somewhat  ruffled  Tom, 
rubbing  a  tingling  elbow.  "  I  was  squattin'  in  them 
bushes  ever  since  Bruff  smashed  the  door  down.  I'd  'a' 
come  straight  in  myself  only  I  knowed  I'd  do  better  to 
watch  outside.  Lordy,  you  was  slow.  What  was  the 
matter  with  yuh  anyway?  Did  yuh  stop  to  make 
speeches?  Hell's  bells,  I  was  sweatin'  blood  with  my 
eyes  stickin'  out  o'  my  head  a  foot  thinkin'  alia  time  some 
investigatin'  jigger  would  sift  round  the  corner  of  the 
Happy  Heart  corral  an'  I'd  have  to  down  him.  Did  yuh 
bring  my  ax  ?  " 

"  Shore,  she's  tied  to  my  saddle  strings.  Whatcha 
guess  ?  Think  I'd  leave  it  behind  ?  " 

"  Be  just  like  yuh." 

"  Where  yuh  goin'  ?  Lay  still,  can't  yuh?  What  yuh 
wanna  scout  round  for,  huh  ?  " 

"  I  gotta  bury  this  ax.  They's  no  sense  in  totin'  her 
round  an'  gettin'  caught  with  it.  You  don't  think  of 
everythin',  do  yuh  ?  " 

But  Red  merely  laughed  and  rolled  over  on  his  side. 
When  Tom  returned  from  his  labor,  Red  sat  up  and 
moved  crabwise  to  a  concave-sided  boulder.  Against  the 
grateful  curve  of  the  now  thoroughly  cooled  rock  he 
eased  his  damp  back. 

"  You  better  go  to  sleep,  Tom,"  he  suggested.  "  I'll 
wake  yuh  up  at  one  o'clock.  'Sno  use  yore  startin' 
before." 

Within  two  minutes  Tom  was  sleeping  —  hard. 

"  Sounds  like  a  sawmill,"  observed  Red,  and  then,  his 
thoughts  drifting  to  the  ranch-house  under  Sweetwater 
Mountain,  he  promptly  forgot  Tom  and  his  works. 

At  one  o'clock,  with  the  rising  moon  drenching  the 
face  of  the  land  with  gray-green  splendor,  Torn  was 


236  Lynch   Lawyers 

shaken  awake  and  started  off  to  Farewell.  There  was 
nothing  dead  and  alive  about  the  town  when  he  reached 
it.  Some  of  the  inhabitants  were  roaming  the  length  and 
breadth  of  Main  Street.  Others  were  congregated  in 
front  of  the  Happy  Heart.  Still  others  were  grouped 
round  the  doorway  of  Bill  Lainey's  hotel.  Tom  heard 
the  voice  of  Bill  Lainey  orating  to  the  multitude.  He 
turned  his  horse's  head  toward  the  hotel.  Bill  Lainey  and 
his  cluster  of  listeners  did  not  perceive  Tom's  approach 
till  he  stopped  his  horse  at  the  edge  of  the  sidewalk  and 
called  — 

"'Lo,  Bill.     What's  up?" 

"  Here's  Tom  now !  "  cried  Daly,  and  every  individual 
member  of  the  group  whirled  to  face  the  street. 

"  Yore  barn's  burned  down !  "  supplied  Piggy  Wads- 
worth. 

"Yore  strawberry  roan's  stole!"  was  the  wheezing 
contribution  of  Bill  Lainey. 

"  Huh  ?  "  grunted  Tom  unbelievingly,  pushing  his  hat 
back  and  scratching  his  evebrows.  "  My  barn  burned ! 
My  roan  rustled!  What  yuh  talkin'  about?  " 

They  enlightened  him  with  circumstance  and  detail. 
Collectively  they  offered  to  show  him  the  ruins  of  the 
barn. 

"If  she's  burned  down,  they's  no  use  lookin'  at  it  now," 
he  said  practically.  "  Yuh  say  somebody  hit  yuh,  Bill, 
when  yuh  was  comin'  across  to  take  a  last  look  at  the 
corral  gate  ?  " 

"Somebody!"  Bill  exclaimed.  "Somebody!  You'd 
say  so!  They  was  six  of  'em  if  they  was  one,  an'  they 
all  jumped  me  together!  An'  I  fit  an'  they  fit,  but  I 
didn't  have  no  gun,  an'  all  I  could  do  was  knock  down 
three  of  'em.  Then  one  of  the  others  hit  me  under  the 
ear  with  a  neck-yoke  an'  I  didn't  remember  no  thin'  after 
that  till  I  come  to  on  my  dinin'-room  table  with  Lize 
a-burnin'  feathers  under  my  nose  an'  like  to  strangled 


One   Down  237 

me.  My  jaw's  all  swole  up,  an'  I  can't  open  my  mouth 
only  just  so  far." 

"  Six  of  'em  —  six  rustlers,"  Tom  said  slowly. 

"  Six  anyway,"  Bill  Lainey  insisted.  "  Maybe  seven. 
But  I'm  shore  o'  six  'cause  I  counted  'em.  An'  they  was 
hellions!  Galloway,  bein'  half-drunk,  drifted  into  'em 
by  mistake,  an'  they  like  to  beat  him  to  death  with  Piney 
Jackson's  wheelbarrow.  Mrs.  Jackson  she  heard  'em, 
but  she  thought  maybe  it  was  just  a  drunkard  or  two 
amusin'  themselves  till  she  come  out  an'  fell  over  Gal 
loway's  legs.  A  wheelbarrow!  The  gent  that  can  use 
a  wheelbarrow  for  a  club  is  strong  as  a  hoss.  If  they 
was  all  like  that  one,  I  ain't  surprised  I  couldn't  lick  the 
bunch.  Well,  three  out  of  eight  ain't  bad." 

"  Eight,"  Daly  nipped  in.     "  I  thought  you  said  seven." 

"  He  said  six  first,"  averred  Piney  Jackson. 

"  Six  or  seven  or  eight,  she's  alia  same,"  Bill  declared 
with  lofty  dignity.  "  I  didn't  have  no  time  to  keep  tally 
o'  the  whole  outfit.  But  they  was  six  I  seen,  an'  I  guess 
they  was  more  —  they  must  V  been  to  make  that  Colo 
rado  sheriff  an'  his  deputy  lay  down  —  an'  anyhow  I 
licked  three  of  'em  good.  Knocked  'em  flat,  so  I  did." 

"'Colorado  sheriff,'"  repeated  Tom.  "What's  he 
gotta  do  with  it?" 

A  silence  fell  upon  the  multitude.  Its  component  parts 
looked  all  ways  save  at  the  man  on  the  pony.  Tom  Kane 
stared,  wrinkling  a  puzzled  forehead. 

"  Whatsa  matter?  "  he  asked  finally. 

"Well,"  Daly  offered  hesitatingly,  "they  say,  them 
Colorado  gents  do,  that  they  was  held  up  by  several  men, 
an'  the  prisoner  took  away.  I  dunno  nothin'  about  that," 
he  added  carefully.  "  All  I  know  is  Lumley  an'  Bruff 
was  handcuffed  an'  their  heads  stuck  under  the  window 
sash  in  the  back  room  of  the  calaboose  an'  the  prisoner 
gone  when  Kansas  Casey  an'  Rouse  got  back  from  the 
fire.  I  dunno  no  more'n  that." 


238  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  You  sound  like  you  was  apologizin',"  drawled  Tom. 
"Whaffor?  Whadda  I  care  about  them  Colorado 
gents?" 

"  You  see,  Tom,"  said  Piney  Jackson,  "  them  sharps 
is  sort  o'  sayin'  yore  brother  Red  was  foreman  of  the 
gang  that  held  'em  up." 

"  They  do,  huh  ?  "  Tom  remarked  in  an  ominously  quiet 
voice.  "  She's  shore  a  calamity  Red  ain't  here  to  speak 
for  himself.  But  maybe  I'll  do.  Where  are  these  gents  ?" 

"  Lumley  an'  Bruff  are  off  with  Kansas  an'  a  posse 
after  Lenton,"  replied  Piney  Jackson.  "  Telescope's 
a-trailin'  for  'em.  They  oughta  be  some'ers  round  Sweet- 
water  Mountain  by  now." 

"  Lumley  an'  Bruff  make  two.  Where's  the  Rouse 
party  ?  *' 

"  I  guess  maybe  he's  in  the  Happy  Heart,"  hazarded 
Bill  Lainey. 

Immediately  Tom  Kane  dismounted,  tied  his  pony  to 
the  hotel  hitching  rail,  pulled  down  his  vest  and  started 
on  foot  toward  the  Happy  Heart.  By  twos  and  threes 
Bill  Lainey's  audience  followed  at  a  distance. 

Tom,  expert  in  single  combat  that  he  was,  glanced 
through  a  window  of  the  Happy  Heart  before  entering. 
He  marked  down  his  prey  standing  at  the  bar.  The 
prey  was  deep  in  converse  with  the  bartender,  a  stage- 
station  hostler  and  a  few  representative  townsmen.  Mr. 
Rouse  was  doing  most  of  the  talking. 

Tom  pushed  through  the  doorway  and  headed  in  the 
direction  of  Mr.  Rouse.  The  bartender  saw  him  coming 
and  sidestepped  out  of  range.  The  stage-station  hostler 
was  not  a  breath  later  in  following  the  example  of  the 
bartender.  The  representative  townsmen  backed  their 
various  ways  elsewhere.  The  eyes  of  Dune  Rouse 
widened.  Then,  at  a  touch  on  his  shoulder,  his  eyelids 
flickered  —  twice. 

He  turned  slowly,  his  hands  held  carefully  above  the 


One   Down  239 

level  of  the  bar,  and  became  aware  that  the  tip  of  his 
curiously  twisted  nose  was  no  more  than  a  foot  distant 
from  the  hardset  features  of  Tom  Kane. 

The  latter's  quiet  eyes  gazed  steadily  into  the  close-set, 
sharp  little  eyes  of  Dune  Rouse.  A  full  minute  the  two 
men  stared  eye  to  eye,  and  then  Rouse  could  no  longer 
endure  that  bleak  gaze.  His  eyes  wavered,  dropped,  came 
back,  swiveled  right  and  left  and  then  fixed  themselves 
on  the  left  shoulder  of  Tom's  flannel  shirt.  The  sweat 
stood  out  in  tiny  drops  on  the  forehead  of  Dune  Rouse. 
His  lips  were  dry.  So  was  the  roof  of  his  mouth.  His 
tongue  got  furtively  to  work. 

He  was  not  a  coward,  —  that  *s,  he  was  not  when  he 
had  time  to  prepare  himself  for  the  issue.  But  Tom 
Kane  had  taken  him  by  surprise.  Tom  Kane  had  gotten 
the  jump  on  him  and  thereby  shaken  his  balance  sorely. 
For  the  clean  courage  to  go  after  his  gun  he  would  have 
willingly  exchanged  all  his  worldly  goods.  Yet  why 
should  he  go  after  his  gun?  Tom  Kane  was  doing  noth 
ing  but  look  at  him. 

"  What  — "  began  Dune  Rouse  and  smiled  a  smile 
that  strove  to  be  cheerful  but  was  merely  more  twisted 
than  his  nose. 

"  What's  that  I  hear  yo're  sayin'  about  my  brother 
Red?" 

"  Why  —  "  Dune  Rouse  tried  again. 

"  Nemmine  any  *  whys  ',"  snarled  Tom.  "  Spit  her 
out." 

"  I  didn't  say  nothin'  about  him,"  protested  Dune 
Rouse. 

"You  didn't,  huh?" 

"  No,  I  didn't.  What  would  I  wanna  say  anythin' 
about  him  for?  I  dunno  nothin'  about  —  " 

"What's  Lumley  an'  Bruff  sayin'  about  him?"  Tom 
was  inexorable. 

"Why—" 


240  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  Yo're  always  sayin'  '  why  '  or  '  what.'  Don't  yuh 
know  nothin'  else?  Can't  yuh  answer?  Aw  right,  I'll 
help  yuh.  I  hear  that  them  two  hoss-thieves,  Lumley  an' 
Bruff,  are  sayin'  my  brother  Red  held  'em  up  an'  busted 
in  the  calaboose  an'  let  out  Ben  Lenton.  Is  that  right?  " 

"  They  said  so,"  corroborated  Rouse,  desperate  with 
fear  and  shame. 

"  They're  a  couple  o'  liars,  an'  so  are  you,"  Tom  de 
clared  warmly.  "  An'  you  don't  dare  draw  that  gun." 

Dune  Rouse  felt  a  slight  sensation  of  nausea  at  the  pit 
of  his  stomach.  Being  of  an  olive  complexion,  his  face 
turned  a  sickly  green.  His  right  arm  trembled.  It 
trembled  quite  noticeably.  But  that  was  all  it  did  — 
tremble. 

"Where's  yore  nerve?"  taunted  Tom  Kane. 

The  spectators  held  their  breath  —  some  of  them. 
Others  looked  their  scorn  and  contempt  of  the  pitiable 
creature  facing  Tom  Kane. 

The  latter  laughed  mockingly,  reached  downward  a 
quick  hand  and  jerked  from  its  holster  Rouse's  six- 
shooter.  With  the  other  hand  he  slapped  Rouse  across 
the  mouth.  Dune  Rouse,  his  lips  bleeding,  cringing  like 
a  kicked  and  cowardly  mongrel,  shrank  sidewise  against 
the  bar. 

Tom  Kane  inserted  his  strong  long  fingers  between 
Rouse's  neck  and  neckband,  yanked  his  head  forward  and 
slapped  his  jaws  again  and  again.  Rouse  made  not  the 
slightest  attempt  at  resistance.  He  acted  like  a  man 
hypnotized  by  fear. 

Tom  released  his  hold  on  the  man's  collar,  stepped 
back,  set  himself  deliberately,  and  knocked  Rouse  flat. 
Rouse  lay  all  a-sprawl  a  moment;  then  he  drew  up  his 
knees  and  shielded  his  face  with  his  arms  as  if  he  feared 
another  blow. 

The  merciless  Tom  swung  a  leg  and  kicked  Rouse  three 
times  in  the  ribs. 


One   Down  241 

"  Get  up,  you  yaller  pup,"  commanded  Tom.  "  Get  on 
yore  feet  before  I  drive  yore  slats  in." 

Thus  adjured,  Dune  Rouse  scrambled  up.  Before  he 
could  straighten,  Nemesis  was  upon  him  with  fist  and 
boot.  Rouse  skittered  over  the  floor,  through  the  door 
way,  across  the  sidewalk,  and  brought  up  under  the 
hitching  rail. 

A  heavy  quirt  hung  conveniently  to  hand  upon  the 
saddlehorn  of  a  pony  tied  to  the  rail.  Tom  Kane  slipped 
the  loop  of  the  thong  over  his  wrist,  gripped  the  handle 
firmly  and  went  at  Dune  Rouse  in  earnest. 

He  drove  the  wretched  man  back  into  the  saloon  for 
his  saddle  and  bridle.  These  two  articles  lay  in  a  corner 
of  one  of  the  back  rooms.  Tom  Kane  indicated  them  by 
the  simple  expedient  of  rubbing  Rouse's  face  on  the 
leather. 

"  Pick  'em  up,"  Tom  ordered,  drawing  back  his  arm, 
"  an'  pack  'em  out  to  the  corral !  " 

"Ow!  Wow!  Wow!" 

The  fear-stricken  man  broke  down  utterly  and 
screamed  and  screamed  the  while  the  quirt  cut  and 
slashed  his  flesh  unsparingly. 

Stumbling,  rolling,  the  great  tears  running  down  his 
face,  Dune  Rouse  dragged  saddle  and  bridle  to  the  corral, 
caught  up  his  horse  —  although  how  he  managed  that  he 
never  knew  —  and  saddled  it. 

"  Nemmine  the  hind  cinch !  "  cried  Tom  Kane  and 
kicked  him  into  the  saddle.  "  One's  good  enough  to  hold 
yuh  on."  He  picked  up  the  dragging  rear  cinch  and  cinch 
strap  and  flung  them  across  the  saddle  in  front  of  the 
reeling,  weeping  rider.  "  Now  flit,"  he  directed  and 
quirted  the  horse  across  the  rump. 

The  animal  sprang  forward  and  galloped  straight  away 
into  the  north. 

"  I  guess  that  settles  that,"  said  Tom  Kane,  gazing 
after  the  bowed  back  of  the  broken  Mr.  Rouse.  "  Piney, 


242  Lynch   Lawyers 

did  yuh  say  the  posse  went  S weetwater  way,  huh  ?  Yeah  ? 
Well,  after  we've  all  had  a  drink  at  the  Happy  Heart,  I 
guess  now  I'll  saddle  me  a  fresh  hoss  an'  slide  out  that- 
away  myself.  I'm  kind  o'  anxious  to  get  back  that 
strawberry  roan  o'  mine." 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-FIVE 

THE   SHOT 

"  THEY  swallowed  it  hook,  bob  an'  line,"  Tom  said  in 
concluding  his  recital  of  what  had  happened  at  Farewell. 
"  They  think  maybe  yo're  innocent  after  all,  an'  so  long's 
Jake  an'  Kansas  an'  Lumley  don't  get  their  legs  over  the 
pole,  you'll  be  all  right.  Goddlemighty,  if  you  could  'a' 
heard  me  spadin'  out  lies  to  'em  there  in  the  Happy  Heart 
after  I'd  gave  Dune  Rouse  the  bum's  rush  out  o'  town! 
They  got  a  sneakin'  idea  the  holdups  turned  Lenton  loose. 
I  handed  them  that  notion  between  drinks,  an'  they  bit 
like  it  was  corn  bread.  Before  noon,  after  they've  done 
talked  it  over  good  an'  plenty,  they'll  be  believin'  it  for 
gospel." 

"I  dunno  as  I  like  it,"  disapproved  Red.  "They'll 
think  Lenton  is  in  with  the  road  agents  now." 

"  Let  'em,"  Tom  said  confidently.  "  They  think  he's 
a  murderer  an'  a  robber  anyway;  so  what's  the  odds? 
Where  yuh  goin',  huh?  " 

"  This  here  draw's  shorter  by  two  miles.  I  know. 
I've  done  rode  her  often  enough.  Besides,  I  ain't  carin' 
nothin'  about  meetin'  none  o'  the  Bar  S  crowd.  Leave  it 
to  li'l  brother,  Tommy  old  settler.  He  knows." 

"  He's  got  a  head  like  a  keg,  li'l  brother  has  —  a  empty 
keg.  As  I  was  sayin',  I'll  bet  Telescope'll  lead  'em  on 
one  savage  ride." 

"  As  you  wasn't  sayin',  y'old  goat.  But  I'll  overlook  the 
empty  keg  till  we  get  some  place  where  I  can  drop  a  buzz- 
bug  down  yore  neck  if  yuh'll  tell  me  some  more.  So  Bill 


244  Lynch   Lawyers 

Lainey  thought  me  an'  my  knuckles  was  six  men  an*  a 
neck-yoke,  did  he?" 

"  He  made  it  eight  men  before  he  got  through.  By  the 
time  he  tells  you  the  story,  it'll  be  forty  men  an'  a  wagon 
tongue.  How  you  gonna  pry  the  truth  out  o'  Flipup, 
Red?" 

Red  ignored  the  abrupt  change  of  subject.  He  smiled 
vacantly  and  rubbed  an  ear. 

"  Yeah,"  he  drawled.     "  Was  Bill's  jaw  swole  much  ?  " 

"  Not  so  much  as  yores'll  be  if  I  ever  land  on  it.  You 
heard  what  I  said  the  first  time.  How  you  gonna  —  " 

"  Yore  cayuse  has  picked  up  a  rock,"  interrupted  Red. 

"  Naw,  he  ain't.     How  — 

"What's  that  up  there,  Tom?"  Red  asked  excitedly, 
pointing  an  agitated  finger  skyward. 

"  I'd  say  it  was  the  sun,  but  I  s'pose  you  got  yore  own 
private  name  for  it.  Most  id  jits  have,  I  notice.  How 
you  gonna  jerk  the  truth  out  o'  Flipup?  " 

"  Oh,  yuh  wanna  know  that,  do  yuh  ?  Well  —  Gimme 
a  match." 

"  Finish  the  sentence." 

"  Aw,  yo're  worse'n  glue  for  stickin'  to  a  thing.  Can't 
yuh  be  contented  without  askin'  fool  questions  an'  both- 
erin'  yore  betters  an'  —  " 

"  How  —  "  began  anew  the  persistent  Tom. 

"  I  dunno."     Red  gave  it  up. 

"  Yuh  dunno.     Why  don't  yuh  ?  " 

"  'Cause  I  don't." 

"  Yuh  mean  to  say  yo're  traipsin'  alia  way  to  Flipup 
an'  yuh  dunno  what  yo're  gonna  do  after  yuh  get  there  ? 
Yo're  a  fine  specimen,  a  fi-ine  specimen.  Where's  them 
four-ace  brains  you  was  gassin'  about  awhile  back?  " 

"  Nemmine  about  them  brains,  feller.  They  ain't  doin' 
no  worryin',  so  you  needn't." 

"  I  needn't,  huh?  If  I  didn't  worry  I'd  like  to  know 
where  you'd  be." 


The  Shot  245 

Red  opened  his  mouth  to  reply  —  Cra-ack!  The  flat 
report  of  a  distant  rifle  smacked  the  windless  air. 

"  Behind  that  bald-headed  ridge,"  murmured  Red. 

"  Left  o'  the  blue  rock,"  determined  Tom. 

Now  a  gunshot  may  be  entirely  innocent  of  evil,  and 
it  may  not.  Until  the  precise  nature  of  its  intent  has 
been  established,  it  behooves  the  innocent  bystander  to 
proceed  carefully. 

A  brook,  bordered  by  a  thick  growth  of  box  elder 
bushes  and  a  marching  line  of  cottonwoods  lay  between 
the  ridge  and  the  two  men.  They  swung  toward  the 
little  stream,  swished  through  the  box  elders  and  splashed 
across.  Away  to  their  right  a  narrow  draw  where  slim 
pines  grew  gashed  the  ridge. 

They  cantered  to  the  draw,  turned  into  it  and  threaded 
their  way  in  and  out  among  the  tree  trunks.  The  draw 
widened  before  them.  The  trees  grew  more  thickly. 
When  they  reached  the  other  end  of  the  draw,  they  were 
deep  in  a  wood  of  bull  pine,  spruce  and  cedar.  Here  was 
no  crackling  brush  to  clog  their  path,  and  the  hoof-beats 
of  the  horses  sounded  softly  on  the  thick  covering  of 
needles  that  blanketed  the  ground. 

Tom,  riding  a  length  in  advance,  tossed  up  a  hand  and 
turned  his  pony  on  a  dime. 

"  Horse  tied  yonder,"  he  said  in  a  loud  whisper,  jerk 
ing  his  head  sidewise. 

Red,  following  the  motion  with  his  eyes,  saw  a  black- 
pointed  bay  rope-tied  to  a  young  cedar  forty  or  fifty  yards 
beyond  his  horse's  ears  —  saw,  too,  those  same  ears  cock 
and  the  horse's  head  go  up.  Savagely  he  swayed  back  on 
the  curb  and  effectively  dispelled  the  pony's  intention  of 
whinnying. 

"  Look  out  yore  hoss  don't  whinner,  Tom,"  he  warned 
and,  driving  in  the  spurs,  sent  his  mount  to  the  right  on 
the  jump. 

His  brother  followed. 


246  Lynch   Lawyers 

A  hundred  yards  away  they  dragged  their  ponies  to 
a  halt.  The  quick-witted  Red  flung  himself  from  the 
saddle,  snatched  his  Winchester  from  the  scabbard  under 
the  fender  and  thrust  his  reins  into  the  hands  of  Tom, 
who  had  been  slow  in  dismounting. 

"  You  hold  the  horses,  Tom,"  said  Red,  "  while  I  go 
see  what's  happened." 

Before  Tom  could  protest,  Red  had  departed  at  speed. 
Tom  burning  with  outrage,  unstrapped  his  rope  and  tied 
both  horses  to  the  bole  of  a  high-branched  cedar.  Swear 
ing  at  Red  under  his  breath,  he  jerked  out  his  own  rifle 
and,  leaving  the  horses  to  whinny  or  not  as  they  saw  fit, 
he  ran  after  his  vanishing  brother. 

He  caught  up  with  him  where  he  had  halted  behind  the 
thick  branches  of  a  newly  brought  down  windfall.  The 
bay  horse  was  not  twenty  yards  away. 

"Ain't  that  Buck  Savior's  hoss?"  whispered  Red. 

"  Looks  like  it,"  was  the  snappish  reply. 

"  It  is,"  declared  Red.     "  An'  here  comes  Buck." 

Hurrying  through  the  wood  came  the  Farewell  ex 
press  agent.  A  Winchester  cuddled  the  hollow  of  his 
bent  arm.  His  eyes  roved  from  side  to  side.  There  was 
anxiety  in  the  puckered  forehead.  The  usually  good- 
humored  face  was  drawn  and  set. 

Behind  the  windfall  Red  and  Tom  sank  down  upon 
their  haunches.  They  knew  Buck  Saylor  well,  but  they 
had  no  intention  of  speaking  to  him.  For  at  that  mo 
ment  Buck  did  not  look  like  a  man  who  would  give  a 
greeting  welcome,  and  to  force  oneself  upon  the  attention 
of  another  engrossed  in  his  own  affairs  is  to  commit  a 
grave  breach  of  cow-country  etiquette.  Buck  Saylor 
reached  his  horse  and  jammed  the  rifle  into  its  scabbard. 
He  undid  the  knot  of  the  tie-rope  with  fingers  that  trem 
bled —  that  seemed  all  thumbs.  Continually  he  glanced 
over  his  shoulder,  now  this  way,  now  that  way.  It  was 
obvious  that  Buck  Saylor  was  in  a  state  of  mind. 


The  Shot  247 

He  finished  untying  the  horse,  coiled  the  rope  care 
lessly,  and  hooked  it  over  the  saddlehorn.  Then,  swing 
ing  up  into  the  saddle,  he  returned  the  way  he  had  come. 

The  two  brothers  followed  at  a  distance.  An  eighth 
of  a  mile  farther  on  they  came  to  the  edge  of  the  trees. 
Here,  flanked  by  the  easy  slope  of  the  bald-headed  ridge, 
was  a  pleasant,  fan-shaped  level,  grass-covered,  dimpled 
with  shallow  hollows,  that  swept  away  for  miles  to  the 
foot  of  blue-green  hills.  A  hundred  yards  out  in  the 
open  three  or  four  cottonwoods  and  a  rank  growth  of  red 
willows  and  box  elders  denoted  the  presence  of  a  spring. 

A  thin  line  of  pale  smoke,  straight  as  a  four-sticker's 
mainmast  and  half  as  tall  pointed  skyward  beyond  the 
spring.  At  one  side  a  hobbled  horse  grazed  with  quick, 
regular  side  sweeps  of  a  long  hammer  head.  The  ani 
mal  was  so  near  that  they  could  hear  the  tearing  sound  as 
it  wrenched  out  each  mouthful  of  the  thick  grass. 

Buck  Saylor,  halting  at  the  spring,  was  partly  hidden 
by  the  cottonwoods.  Then  his  horse  moved  forward  a 
step,  and  they  saw  that  Buck  was  leaning  over  his  saddle- 
horn  and  looking  at  something  on  the  ground.  Which 
something,  whatever  it  was,  was  completely  masked  by 
the  red  willows. 

Buck  Saylor  continued  to  hold  his  embowed  posture  a 
long  minute;  then  he  straightened  slowly,  wheeled  his 
horse  and  as  slowly  rode  away.  And  rode  away  with 
chin  on  shoulder.  But  there  was  no  possibility  of  him 
seeing  the  Kane  boys.  Each  of  them,  hatless,  was  hug 
ging  the  ground  behind  an  individual  spruce,  peering  with 
a  cautious  eye  past  the  bark  of  his  ambush. 

"If  Buck  heads  toward  that  notch  between  the  humpy 
li'l  hill  an'  the  one  with  the  square  top,  he's  goin'  back  to 
Farewell,"  said  Red. 

"  Guess  that's  where  he's  goin',"  assented  Tom  as  the 
express  agent  set  his  horse  to  trotting  in  the  direction  of 
the  notch  between  the  hills. 


248  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  Le's  go  see  what's  in  them  willers?  "  suggested  Tom 
when  the  departing  horseman  had  assumed  the  general 
outline  of  a  post  mounted  upon  a  keg,  indicating  that  he 
was  at  least  distant  the  half  of  a  mile. 

"  No,"  demurred  Red.  "  Le's  wait  a  shake  —  till  he's 
a  mile  out,  anyway.  Somebody  else  may  V  heard  that 
shot  besides  us." 

"  Aw,  say  —  " 

"  Listen,  feller,  everythin'  might  be  all  right,  an'  then 
again  it  mightn't.  No  sense  in  hurryin'.  Go  yuh  ten 
even  they's  a  dead  gent  a-layin'  near  that  smoke." 

"  Ten  even  is  too  good.  I  kind  o'  think  so  myself 
about  that  gent." 

"  Make  it  ten  to  one  then.  Y'ain't  afraid  to  lose  one 
small  measly  buck,  are  yuh  ?  "  Tauntingly. 

"  Go  yuh,"  Tom  promptly  took  him  up.  "  But  yo're  a 
robber,  alia  same." 

When  Buck  Saylor  was  a  mile  away,  Red  and  his 
brother,  first  lining  up  the  cottonwoods  and  the  willows 
between  them  and  the  rider,  walked  out  to  the  spring. 

"  I  win,"  said  Red,  staring  down  at  the  body  huddled 
between  a  small  campfire  and  a  bubbling  spring,  the  whole 
within  a  horseshoe  of  red  willows. 

They  knew  that  the  man  was  dead  before  they  reached 
him.  The  position  of  the  legs  and  arms  told  as  much. 
As  corroborative  evidence  the  soggy,  red-stained  condi 
tion  of  the  back  of  the  man's  vest  was  hardly  needed. 
There  was  a  skillet  in  which  a  lump  of  beef  reposed  amid 
congealing  grease,  held  tightly  by  the  fingers  of  the  man's 
right  hand.  Beside  his  left  elbow,  where  the  left  hand 
had  dropped  it,  the  contents  of  a  spilt  salt  sack  whitened 
the  grass. 

"They  say  she's  unlucky  to  spill  salt,"  observed  Tom 
matter-of-factly,  and,  being  thirsty,  he  knelt  and  drank  at 
the  spring. 

Red  turned  over  the  body  of  the  dead  man.     When  he 


The   Shot  249 

saw  the  quiet  features,  he  sat  back  on  his  heels  and  whis 
tled.  Tom  got  up,  wiping  his  mouth,  and  looked  at  the 
face  of  the  corpse. 

"  I  wonder  now,"  said  Red,  "  what  Buck  Saylor  had 
against  Pickles  Dill." 

"  Dunno."  Tom  shook  his  head.  "  They  wasn't 
never  exactly  boom  companions,  but  they  wasn't  hostyle 
neither." 

"  Drilled  plumb  through  the  ticker,"  amplified  Red. 
"  An'  the  front  of  his  shirt's  burnt.  Buck  must  'a'  made 
certain  shore  by  shovin'  the  Winchester  almost  into  his 
breast  pocket." 

"  Pickles  didn't  have  no  chance.  Funny  he  didn't  see 
Buck  a-comin'." 

"  Maybe  he  did  see  Buck  a-comin'." 

"Huh?" 

"  Maybe  he  thought  Buck  was  his  friend  an'  wasn't 
expectin'  no  such  play  as  this." 

"  We'll  never  know,  I  guess.     Might's  well  bury  him." 

Using  the  skillet  and  Pickles'  own  skinning-knife  as 
shovels,  they  cut  away  the  sod  and  scooped  out  a  shallow 
grave.  They  wrapped  the  body  in  Pickles'  saddle-blan 
ket,  laid  it  in  the  grave  and  scraped  the  earth  over  it. 
On  top  of  the  mound  they  heaped  a  few  rocks.  This 
that  those  ubiquitous  beasties,  the  coyotes,  might  not 
investigate. 

Pickles'  saddle  and  bridle  they  lashed  to  the  branch  of 
a  cottonwood.  Which  being  done,  Red  went  out  to  the 
grazing  horse  and  took  off  his  hobbles. 

"  Git,  feller,"  he  said  and  slapped  the  horse  on  the  flank 
with  the  leather  circlets. 

With  a  squeal  and  a  two-heeled  kick  the  animal  galloped 
away.  Red,  returning,  came  to  the  tiny  stream  filtering 
from  the  spring.  As  he  stepped  across,  a  hoof -print  on 
the  margin  of  the  rivulet  caught  his  eye.  This  hoof- 
mark  was  the  imprint  of  a  hoof  shod  with  a  bar  shoe. 


250  Lynch   Lawyers 


Red  crawled  here  and  there  on  hands  and  knees  to  find 
other  hoof-marks.  He  found  them,  faintly  impressed, 
to  be  sure,  but  nevertheless  unmistakable. 

"What  yuh  doin'  —  eatin'  grass?"  called  Tom. 

Red  rose  to  his  feet  and  walked  back  to  the  spring. 

"  I  just  run  across  the  mark  of  a  bar  shoe,"  he  said 
quietly,  "  an'  by  the  position  of  the  others  I  found  the 
bar  shoe  was  on  the  near  fore.  The  last  we  seen  of  Hoi- 
lister,  his  gray  hoss  was  wearin'  a  bar  shoe  on  the  near 
fore." 

"  What  does  that  prove?  " 

"Nothin' —  yet.  It's  —  it's  funny.  I  can't  make  it 
out." 

"  Lots  o'  things  yuh  can't  make  out.  That's  nothin' 
new." 

"  Well,  when  Hollister  an'  them  three  other  jiggers 
passed  us  down  by  them  tamaracks  south  of  Farewell, 
they  was  headin'  south.  This  could  be  their  first  camp." 

"  It  could,  but  Hollister  ain't  here,  an'  Pickles  is. 
So  —  " 

"  The  more  I  look  at  this  camp  the  more  I  don't  think 
she's  a  one-man  camp.  Lordy,  Tom,  where  are  yore 
eyes?  Lookit  all  them  boot-marks.  They're  different 
sizes.  One  man  couldn't  'a'  made  'em  all.  I  wish  Tele 
scope  was  here.  They  ain't  nobody  like  him  when  it 
comes  to  readin'  sign.  I —  Lookit  them  li'l  tracks, 
Tom." 

"  Might  a  woman  made  'em,  huh  ?  " 

"  She  might,  but  she  didn't.  Hollister  made  'em.  I 
mind  now  how  his  boots  was  jomightyful  small  an'  almost 
new  —  heels  wasn't  run  over  none.  They  was  nothin' 
fancy  about  his  spurs  neither  —  plain,  hand- forged  tick 
lers  they  was,  an'  one  of  the  points  o'  one  rowel  was 
busted  short  off." 

"  Which  ain't  got  nothin'  to  do  with  us  nor  our  job 
neither.  C'mon,  Red,  le's  drag  it." 


The   Shot  251 

"  Lookit !  "  cried  Red  excitedly,  pointing  an  agitated 
finger  toward  the  evergreen  wood.  "  Lookit !  " 

Tom  looked.  A  hobbled  black  horse  was  issuing  from 
the  wood  and  making  his  jerky  way  toward  the  spring. 

"  My  black  cay  use !  "  continued  Red  in  a  healthy  bawl 
and  with  a  fine  disregard  for  possible  listeners. 


CHAPTER    TWENTY-SIX 

ROCK    COUNTY    MEN 

"  YES,  sir,  old  feller,"  said  Red,  rubbing  the  black's 
forehead  and  pulling  his  ears,  "  I  shore  never  expected  to 
see  you  again,  y'old  Mormon." 

Contrary  to  the  prevailing  custom,  Red  had  always 
made  a  great  pet  of  the  black.  And  the  black  meticu 
lously  repaid  the  debt  by  never  bucking  except  on  a  frosty 
morning. 

"If  you'd  only  stop  fondlin'  that  fool  hoss,"  remarked 
Tom  with  sudden  contempt,  "  yuh  might  help  me  roll 
these  rocks  off  o'  Pickles." 

"  For  once  in  yore  life,  Tom,  yuh  got  a  real  shore- 
nough  idea.  We  did  sort  o'  overlook  a  bet  when  we 
didn't  search  Pickles.  Where  did  yuh  throw  that  skil 
let?" 

They  exhumed  the  corpse,  rolled  it  out  of  its  blanket 
cocoon  and  searched  the  clothing  carefully.  They  found 
nothing  but  valueless  odds  and  ends,  such  as  tobacco, 
matches,  a  pocketknife  and  some  horse-shoe  nails. 

"  Lordy,"  Red  murmured  disappointedly. 

In  the  business  of  searching,  the  dead  man's  overalls 
had  been  slightly  pulled  up,  baring  to  view  a  generous  six 
or  seven  inches  of  boot  above  the  right  ankle.  A  pro 
nounced  bulging  on  the  outside  of  that  same  ankle  caught 
Red's  eye.  He  laid  hold  of  the  boot  at  heel  and  toe  and 
pulled  it  off.  He  upended  it,  and  two  gold  watches 
thudded  on  the  ground. 

Observing  this  phenomenon,  Tom  pounced  upon  the 


Rock    County   Men  253 

other  boot  and  served  it  similarly.  No  timepieces  re 
warded  Tom's  effort,  but  four  hundred  and  fifty  dollars 
in  gold  did. 

"  Pickles  Dill  an'  his  li'l  friends  have  been  fiddlin'  with 
the  road-agent  business,"  said  Red,  picking  up  the  fallen 
watches,  "  an'  I'll  go  you  one  hundred  to  one  that  Pickles 
knowed  plenty  about  the  robbin'  o'  the  express  office. 
My  li'l  black  hoss  proves  that." 

"  You  won't  do  no  bettin'  with  me,"  Tom  assured  him. 
"  Yo're  too  lucky.  Any  marks  on  them  alarm  clocks  ?  " 

"  Nary  a  mark.  No  wonder  Buck  Saylor  downed  him. 
I'd  like  to  know  how  Buck  found  out.  But  why  didn't 
Buck  hang  round  here  some'ers  an'  try  to  bushwack  the 
others  instead  of  lightin'  out  for  home  ?  An'  why  didn't 
he  search  him?  S'funny." 

"  Yeah,  ain't  it?  Pull  yore  end  o'  the  blanket  straight, 
Red,  an'  we'll  roll  him  up  again." 

"  Wait  till  I  strap  his  arms  in  with  his  belt.  They 
flopped  every  time  we  turned  him  over  before.  Aw  ready 
yore  end?  " 

Having  reburied  Pickles  Dill,  they  did  not  linger  in  the 
vicinity.  Red  fashioned  and  fitted  a  hackamore  for  his 
new-found  pony  and  led  him  behind  the  saddle  when  they 
rode  away  southward. 

"  Pickles  an'  Hollister  makes  two,"  said  Red,  as  the 
fast-walking  ponies  rolled  the  miles  behind  them.  "  For 
a  bet  the  other  two  of  the  four  that  passed  us  near  the 
tamaracks  was  Durkin  an'  Cox." 

"  Durkin  an'  Lenn  more  like,"  was  Tom's  guess.  "  I 
seen  Cox  when  I  was  in  Farewell  after  the  fire.  He's 
still  stiff  in  the  arm.  Shore,  I  know  you  run  Spunk  out 
o'  town,  but  he  could  'a'  laid  low  in  the  hills  some'ers. 
'At's  what  I'd  do  in  his  case,  an'  likely  he  done  it.  The 
foxiness  of  Durkin  an'  Cox,  the  coyotes,"  he  added  with 
a  grim  laugh,  "a-tryin'  to  saw  off  the  blame  for  them 
robberies  on  Ben  Lenton." 


254  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  It  wasn't  foxiness,"  denied  Red.  "  It  was  common 
sense.  It  was  their  best  play,  an'  I  oughta  guessed  it 
sooner.  But  that's  all  right  now." 

"  I  guess,"  yawned  Tom,  who  had  been  losing  more 
sleep  lately  than  he  cared  to  think  about,  "  I  guess  yes." 

It  was  no  part  of  wisdom  to  enter  any  towns  in  the 
region.  Accordingly  they  avoided  Marysville,  Blossom 
on  the  railroad,  and  Fort  Seymour,  by  the  eminently  safe 
margins  of  fifteen  to  twenty  miles. 

Ten  days  from  the  time  they  left  the  mouth  of  the 
draw  near  Farewell  they  rode  down  the  straggling  Main 
Street  of  Flipup  in  Rock  County,  Colorado. 

In  its  general  appearance  Flipup  differed  not  at  all 
from  Farewell.  There  were  the  same  stores  and  saloons 
with  their  false  fronts  and  ill-lettered  signs,  the  same 
saggy-roofed  houses  and  straggling  corrals.  But  there 
was  this  variation  between  it  and  Farewell.  Where  the 
latter  town  owned  but  one  dance-hall,  Flipup  flaunted 
three  before  the  eyes  of  pleasure-bent  folk. 

BRADLEY  USHER  LENDS  MONEY,  BUYS  ANY 
THING.     WHAT  HAVE  YOU  ? 

The  above  sign,  dirty  white  lettering  on  a  faded  black 
ground,  strung  its  two  lines  across  the  entire  false- fronted 
end  of  a  log  and  shake  building  with  four  skylights,  sit 
uated  between  two  corrals. 

"  Seemin'ly  he  don't  sell  nothin',"  observed  Red  with 
a  barely  perceptible  nod  toward  the  sign  of  the  House  of 
Usher. 

"  Lookit  the  size  of  his  shack,"  muttered  Tom,  eyeing 
the  length  of  roof  visible  above  a  corral  stockade. 

"  Thirty  foot  wide  an'  a  hundred  foot  long,"  mumbled 
Red.  "  A  gent  that  buys  any  thin'  has  gotta  have  lots  o' 


room." 


"  '  Daisy  Saloon,  Brad  Usher,  Prop.',"  read  off  Tom, 


Rock   County   Men  255 

looking  under  his  eyebrows  at  a  saloon  on  the  right  flank 
of  the  California  Store. 

"  *  Brad  Usher,  Prop  '  owns  the  Pansy  Saloon  too,'* 
added  Red,  picking  up  another  sign  farther  along  the 
street. 

"  Not  forgettin'  '  Cards  an'  Roulette'  next  door  to  the 
Daisy." 

"  He's  shore  one  reg'lar  two-legged  business  man. 
He'll  buy  what  yuh  got  or  lend  you  money  an'  then  get 
it  back  with  faro  an'  licker.  Maybe  that's  the  gent  now." 

A  tall,  thin  horse-faced  citizen  attired  in  black  frock 
coat  and  trousers  of  the  style  affected  by  undertakers  in 
good  standing  issued  from  the  doorway  beneath  the 
"  Bradley  Usher  Lends  Money  "  sign  and  walked. swiftly 
across  the  street. 

The  lean  citizen  was  wearing  a  high,  well-brushed 
beaver  hat.  As  he  crossed  in  front  of  Red  and  Tom,  who 
had  halted  their  horses  as  if  undecided  what  to  do  next,  he 
glanced  at  them  with  a  gaze  as  intense  as  that  of  a  wolf. 
He  passed  on,  and,  as  he  went,  he  removed  his  high  hat, 
took  therefrom  a  long  rectangle  of  plug  tobacco,  haggled 
off  a  stout  chew  with  his  teeth  and  returned  the  tobacco 
to  the  hat  and  the  hat  to  his  head. 

Ten  seconds  later  the  thin  citizen,  raising  his  foot  to 
enter  the  Daisy  Saloon,  was  run  into  head-on  by  a 
drunken  man  coming  out.  The  thin  citizen,  without 
changing  countenance  in  the  slightest  degree,  seized  the 
person  over-served  with  liquor  by  the  hair  of  his  head 
and  the  slack  of  his  belt,  swung  him  waist-high  and  heaved 
him  into  the  street. 

The  thin  citizen,  one  long  hand  thrust  suggestively  be 
neath  his  coat  tails,  stood  upon  the  sidewalk  and  regarded 
the  liquored  individual  sprawling  in  the  dust. 

That  one  lay  quietly  on  his  face  a  full  minute.  His 
legs  kicked  a  time  or  two.  He  squirmed  over  on  his  back, 
sat  up  and,  supporting  himself  by  his  hands,  bled  copiously 


256  Lynch    Lawyers 


from  the  nose.  After  a  time  he  dragged  himself  to  his 
feet  and,  carefully  refraining  from  looking  at  the  man  on 
the  sidewalk,  staggered  limpingly  away.  Then,  and  not 
till  then,  did  the  thin  citizen  enter  the  Daisy  Saloon.  It 
was  noticeable  that  he  backed  in. 

Red  and  Tom  proceeded  to  the  hotel  without  another 
word. 

"  Go  yuh  ten  that  quick-tempered  lightnin'-rod  is  Brad 
Usher,"  whispered  Red,  his  head  under  the  left  fender  as 
he  snaked  out  the  cinch  strap. 

Tom  sniffed  his  scorn  of  the  proposition,  dragged  off 
saddle  and  bridle,  and  turned  his  attention  to  Red's  black 
horse,  which  they  had  converted  into  a  pack-animal. 
While  they  worked,  came  a  stocky  man  who  said  he  ran 
the  hotel,  and  they  caught  him  eyeing  surreptitiously  the 
brands  on  the  three  horses.  Whereupon  they  felt  them 
selves  repaid  for  having  spent  the  better  part  of  the  pre 
vious  afternoon  altering  by  the  method  known  as  hair- 
branding  the  black's  Bar  S  into  +8  and,  in  the  case  of 
Tom's  two  horses,  the  Lazy  K  into  the  Barb-Wire. 

They  carried  their  belongings  into  the  hotel  and  be 
spoke  a  room.  They  were  lucky  enough  to  get  one  with 
but  two  cots,  for  they  had  no  wish  to  be  public.  And 
usually  the  sleeping  apartments  of  the  common  or  garden 
variety  of  hotel  in  that  region  were  public  to  excess. 

They  had  come  into  town  late  in  the  morning.  After 
dinner,  which  they  ate  without  removing  the  stubble 
bristling  on  their  cheeks  and  chins,  they  strolled  —  oh,  so 
aimlessly  —  down  the  street  to  the  California  Store, 
which,  they  had  been  told  by  Miss  Lenton,  was  owned  by 
two  of  her  father's  friends,  the  Davis  Brothers. 

They  bought  tobacco  in  the  California  Store,  but  de 
parted  without  mentioning  to  the  Davis  brother  who 
waited  upon  them  their  acquaintance  with  Ben  Lenton. 
That  might  come  later.  Red  did  not  believe  that  to  iden 
tify  themselves  with  the  town's  solid  citizens  immediately 


Rock    County   Men  257 

upon  their  arrival  would  advance  their  case.  In  matters 
of  life  and  death,  especially  in  a  locality  where  life  is 
guarded  and  death  dispensed  by  the  six-shooter,  it  is  al 
ways  better  to  know  one's  enemies  first. 

Strolling  down  one  side  of  Main  Street  and  up  the 
other,  they  were  careful  to  enter  the  combination  saloon 
and  gambling- joint  bearing  the  name  of  Rouse's  Rest. 

The  bartender,  a  precious-looking  scoundrel  with  a 
cockeye,  sold  them  the  drinks  and  cigars  they  asked  for 
and  began  to  swab  the  bar  industriously. 

"  Fine  day,  gents,"  said  he,  focusing  his  cockeye. 

Red  walked  to  the  doorway  and  looked  solemnly  up 
at  the  sky. 

'  Yeah,  it  is,"  was  his  endorsement  when  he  had  re- 
draped  himself  against  the  front  of  the  bar.  "  I  dunno 
when  I  seen  a  finer.  Whadda  you  think,  Tom?  " 

"  I  guess  I  seen  a  finer  one  down  in  the  Nation.  But 
this  here'n  ain't  to  be  sneezed  at.  Barkeep,  is  they  any 
chance  of  a  feller  gettin'  into  a  li'l  game  round  here?" 

"  Shore  they  is,"  replied  the  bartender,  his  features 
promptly  losing  the  rather  blank  expression  that  had  come 
upon  them  at  Red's  serious  discussion  of  the  weather. 
"  Right  in  the  back  room,  gents,  right  in  the  back  room." 

"  He's  a  repeater,  Tom,"  said  Red,  disapproval  in  the 
frank  stare  he  switched  on  the  cockeyed  bartender. 

The  bartender  resumed  his  look  of  blankness  on  the 
instant. 

"  In  there,"  he  nodded,  flicking  a  thumb  toward  the 
open  doorway  giving  into  the  back  room. 

A  man  lounged  into  the  doorway.  His  hands  were  in 
his  pockets,  he  wore  no  hat;  his  long,  narrow  head  had 
been  recently  shingled.  Red  did  not  like  his  cold  and 
fishy  eyes,  his  pale  clean-shaven  skin,  his  pointed  foxy 
nose  and  chin  —  there  was  nothing  about  the  man  that 
he  did  like. 

"  They's  one  of  our  dealers  now,"  continued  the  bar- 


258  Lynch    Lawyers 

tender,  flirting  his  cockeye  from  Red  to  the  man  in  the 
doorway.  "  He'll  fix  yuh  up." 

"  '  Walk  into  my  parlor,  said  the  spider  to  the  fly '," 
quoted  Red  with  a  sardonic  grin  at  the  bartender.  "  This 
is  shore  handy.  Oh,  yes  indeedy.  Ain't  it,  Tom?" 

"  Y'bet  yuh.  When  we  want  in  a  li'l  game,  we'll  know 
where  to  come  for  action  on  our  money.  Whatsa  mat 
ter,  feller?  What  yuh  lookin'  so  funny  for?  I'll  bet 
yuh  thought  we  wanted  in  on  a  li'l  game  now,  didn't 
yuh?" 

The  bartender,  experienced  in  the  ways  of  drunken 
men,  smiled  as  pleasantly  as  he  knew  how  and  achieved 
a  most  notable  leer. 

"  No,  no,"  said  he,  "  I  didn't  think  nothin'  about  it. 
I  was  just  tryin'  to  help  y'out.  Take  yore  time,  gents. 
No  hurry.  Our  back  room's  always  here." 

Red  frowned  doubtfully  upon  him.  He  wagged  his 
head  in  the  manner  of  one  far  gone  in  drink.  He  hoped 
Tom  would  have  the  sense  to  play  up. 

"  Don't  yore  back  room  ever  take  a  vacation?  "  asked 
Red,  his  tongue  slurring  the  words  ever  so  little. 

"  Never,"  declared  the  bartender.  "  Have  another, 
gents  —  on  the  house." 

The  bartender's  cockeye  roved  for  a  fraction  of  a  sec 
ond  toward  the  man  in  the  back  room's  doorway.  The 
man  lounged  lazily  to  the  bar. 

"  Shake  hands  with  Mr.  Stratton,  Mr.  Dick  Stratton," 
invited  the  bartender,  leering  at  the  two  brothers.  "  Mr. 
Stratton  is  one  of  our  prom'nent  citizens,"  he  elaborated. 
"  Dunno  what  we'd  do  without  Mr.  Stratton." 

Red  Kane,  stepping  forward  as  if  to  shake  hands, 
stumbled  in  a  most  natural  fashion  and  literally  fell  on 
the  neck  of  Mr.  Dick  Stratton.  He  did  not  paw  the 
person  of  Mr.  Dick  Stratton  to  any  extent,  yet,  when  he 
had  pulled  away  and  given  place  to  Tom  he  knew  where 
Mr.  Stratton  kept  his  gun. 


Rock   County   Men  259 

Tom's  method  was  different.  He  gripped  the  hand  of 
Mr.  Stratton.  He  squeezed  it.  With  his  other  hand  he 
clung  to  the  forearm  of  Mr.  Stratton.  The  latter,  while 
acknowledging  the  introduction,  endeavored  to  draw 
back.  But  there  was  no  loosening  Tom's  two-handed  grip. 

Mr.  Stratton  was  aligned  with  them  against  the  bar. 
Strong  drink  was  urged  upon  him.  He  drank  perforce, 
and,  the  bartender  being  occupied  with  a  bottle  that  Red 
insisted  contained  a  fly,  the  two  brothers  seized  the  occa 
sion  to  empty  their  glasses  on  the  floor.  The  liquor  made 
no  pool.  There  were  cracks  in  the  planking  through 
which  it  promptly  seeped.  Remained  merely  a  slight 
dampness  on  two  boards. 

"  They's  no  fly  in  that  bottle,"  averred  the  bartender, 
completing  his  investigation. 

"  Maybe  he's  dove  down  to  the  bottom,"  suggested  Red, 
his  voice  taking  on  a  thicker  edge.  "  Flies  is  cute  as 
coyotes,  flies  is." 

"  Har,  har!"  laughed  Tom,  as  one  who  perceives  a 
pleasantry.  "  Har,  har !  " 

Red  yearned  to  kick  him.  He  feared  Tom  was  over 
doing  it.  For  Mr.  Stratton's  cold  and  fishy  eye  was 
sharp  likewise.  Suspicion  had  not  glazed  it  yet,  but  — 

"  How  about  that  li'l  gug  —  game?  "  said  Red  hastily. 
"Whu-why  wait?" 

Tom  smote  him  between  the  shoulder-blades  with  a 
force  that  made  him  blink. 

"  Shore,"  he  roared,  dodging  Red's  kick.  "  You  got 
the  right  idea,  old  settler." 

"But  —  but  we  ain't  got  nobody  to  play  with,"  said 
Red,  feigning  to  forget  what  the  bartender  had  said 
concerning  Mr.  Stratton. 

:<  That's  easy  fixed,"  pronounced  Mr.  Stratton,  rub 
bing  an  ankle,  for  Tom,  evading  Red's  kick,  had  severely 
jabbed  him  with  a  spur.  "  I  ain't  got  nothin'  to  do  just 


260  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  We  —  we'd  oughta  have  sus-somebody  else,"  qual 
ified  Red. 

"  Shore,"  chipped  in  Tom.  "  A  three-handed  game 
ain't  nothin'.  I  wanna  play  draw  m'self." 

11  I'll  get  somebody,"  said  Mr.  Stratton  and  went  out. 

Within  three  minutes  he  returned,  in  his  wake  a  wizen- 
faced  man  with  the  palest  eyes  ever  a  man  used  to  stare 
with.  Wizen-Face,  it  seemed,  was  another  prominent 
citizen,  a  Mr.  Art  Teller.  He  liked  nothing  better  than 
playing  cards. 

The  four  retired  to  the  back  room.  On  cutting  for  the 
deal,  Red  won.  Shuffling  the  cards,  he  found  that  it  was 
a  "  short-card  "  deck  —  that  is  to  say,  the  ends  of  certain 
cards  had  been  filed,  thus  making  it  comparatively  simple 
for  the  crooked  gambler  to  do  as  he  pleased.  It  is  not 
one  of  the  most  skillful  methods  of  cheating,  and  the 
knowing  citizen  may  detect  it,  but  against  the  shorthorn 
and  the  drunken  man  it  answers  the  purpose  to  admira 
tion. 

Red  knew  —  knew  without  raising  his  eyes  —  that  Mr. 
Stratton  and  Mr.  Teller  were  watching  him  like  the  pro 
verbial  hawks.  But  Red  was  not  a  shorthorn.  He  was 
distinctly  a  longhorn  from  the  top  of  his  red  head  to  the 
rowels  of  his  Cross  L  spurs. 

He  dealt  the  cards  without  the  flutter  of  an  eyelid. 
But  he  was  careful  to  deal  as  the  mellowed  one  deals  — 
with  many  an  extravagant  and  aimless  gesture.  Two 
cards  even  flipped  over  the  edge  of  the  table  into  Mr. 
Stratton's  lap. 

Red  picked  up  his  hand  and  arranged  it  with  fingers 
that  shook.  Red's  head  wabbled  on  his  shoulders.  His 
body  swayed  a  little.  Tom  followed  his  example,  adding 
thereto  a  loose-lipped  mouth  and  dropped  chin. 

The  ante  was  small ;  the  bets  were  small ;  the  pots  were 
small.  Red  had  difficulty  in  losing  ten  dollars.  Tom 
won  six. 


Rock   County   Men  261 

Red  drew  a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece  from  his  pocket 
and  sent  it  spinning  across  the  table  to  Mr.  Stratton. 

"  Gimme  stack  o'  reds,"  said  he.  "  They's  more  where 
that  canary  came  from." 

"  They  won't  be  if  yuh  keep  slingin'  'em  round  that- 
away,"  mumbled  Tom,  uncertain  what  to  say,  and  re 
solved  to  play  safe. 

What  was  Red  driving  at? 

"  Whadda  we  care  for  poverty  an'  precious  stones  ?  " 
said  Red,  arranging  his  chips  with  drunken  solemnity. 
"  We  ain't  got  nothin'  on  our  minds  but  our  hats  an',  if 
we  wanna  buy  this  s'loon,  buy  two-three  s'loons,  we  — 
we'll  do  it !  Alia  same,  Tom  —  "  here  Red,  having  drawn 
a  poor  hand,  dropped  his  cards  face  up  on  the  table  — 
"  we'd  oughta  got  more  for  that  ranch.  The  cows  was 
all  right  —  no  kick  comin'  on  that  price.  But  the  hosses 
oughta  brought  a  lot  more  —  a  lot  mum-more.  An'  I 
could  'a'  got  it  only  you  was  in  a  sweat  to  drag  it.  '  Oh, 
no,'  says  you.  '  We  got  enough.  Why  be  a  hawg?  '  An' 
I,  like  a  fool,  let  it  go  at  that.  Gents,"  he  went  on, 
appealing  to  Messrs.  Stratton  and  Teller,  "  tut-two  thou 
sand  more  we  could  'a'  got  for  that  ranch.  Think  of  it, 
gents !  Tut-two  thousand  whole,  hard,  round,  cold  wheels 
we  could  'a'  gug-got  if  I'd  worked  it  right  by  holdin'  out. 
When  them  ruh-rich  jiggers  want  any  thin',  they  don't 
care  what  they  pay.  Nawsir,  they'll  spend  money  like  it 
was  nothin'.  Tut-two  thousand  dollars  all  wasted  —  just 
wasted.  Wouldn't  it  make  yuh  sick,  gents?  I'm  askin' 
yuh,  wouldn't  it  ?  " 

The  two  gentlemen  agreed  politely  that  it  would.  Mr. 
Teller  smothered  a  cough.  Mr.  Stratton  felt  a  warm  glow 
permeating  his  sinful  being.  Two  thousand  dollars  more, 
eh  ?  In  that  case  the  total  amount  paid  over  for  the  two 
drunkards'  ranch  must  have  been  something  quite  worth 
while. 

"  Lordy,"  said  Red,  looking  down  at  the  cards  he  had 


262  Lynch   Lawyers 

dropped,  "  them  cards  fell  face  up,  didn't  they  ?  We'll 
deal  that  huh-hand  over." 

11  We  will  like  —  "  cried  Mr.  Art  Teller,  who  sat  facing 
Red  Kane. 

Mr.  Teller  could  never  be  quite  certain  how  it  hap 
pened,  but  the  next  instant  the  table  edge  struck  him  a 
violent  blow  in  the  pit  of  the  stomach  and  he  went  over 
backward,  his  chair  going  with  him,  and  landed  with 
nauseating  force  on  the  unyielding  floor.  Chips  rattled 
about  Mr.  Teller.  Then  the  table  —  for  Red  had  con 
tinued  his  primary  motion  —  landed  upside  down  on  top 
of  him. 

Mr.  Teller,  who  from  the  first  had  made  earnest  efforts 
to  draw  his  six-shooter,  released  his  grip  on  the  butt  and 
gasped.  With  a  whoop  Red  jumped  on  the  overset  table 
and  danced  upon  it.  Mr.  Teller  squeaked  —  he  squeaked 
amain. 

Tom,  squared  back  against  the  wall,  yelled  with  laugh 
ter  —  and  kept  both  eyes  riveted  on  the  bartender,  who 
had  darted  into  the  back  room  at  Art  Teller's  initial  out 
cry,  and  Mr.  Dick  Stratton.  Both  men  looked  uncer 
tainly  at  Red  and  the  wriggling  feet  and  hands  of  Mr. 
Teller.  These  members  were  all  that  was  visible  of  him. 
For  the  table  was  of  the  kitchen  variety  and  it  had  gone 
over  lengthwise. 

Red  took  hold  of  the  legs  and  rocked  the  table.  Then 
he  stamped  upon  the  thick  wood  and  split  it  from  end  to 
end. 

"  Table's  bub-busted !  "  he  cried,  grinning  foolishly, 
and  drove  a  spurred  heel  through  the  split  and  ground  it 
into  Mr.  Teller's  abdomen. 

Mr.  Stratton  glanced  at  Tom.  What  he  saw  appeared 
to  satisfy  him. 

"  Gimme  the  bung-starter,'*  he  whispered  to  the  bar 
tender. 

"  No,"  said  the  sharp-eared  Tom  with  decision,  "  no 


Rock   County   Men  263 

bung-starter.  Leave  him  have  his  fun  out.  He  don't 
mean  no  harm,  Reddy  don't.  He's  just  playin'  with  that 
jigger,  an'  he's  —  " 

"  He's  killin'  him !  "  exclaimed  Dick  Stratton,  as  Art 
Teller  wheezed  faintly. 

"  Serve  him  right,"  was  Tom's  philosophical  dictum. 
"  He  hadn't  oughta  crossed  Red  when  he's  drunk.  Any 
body  'at  knowed  Red  could  'a'  told  him  that.  He'll  know 
better  next  time." 

Dick  Stratton  hesitated.  Art  Teller  was  his  friend,  his 
accomplice  if  you  like,  but  Dick  was  not  moved  to  die  for 
him  or  run  unnecessary  risk  on  his  account.  And  there 
was  risk,  judging  by  the  way  that  infernal  person  called 
Tom  kept  fingering  the  butt  of  his  six-shooter.  It  is  one 
of  the  defects  of  the  great  American  weapon  that  it  kills 
for  the  drunken  as  well  as  for  the  sober,  and  there  is 
always  more  than  a  fair  chance  that  the  drunken  will 
shoot  on  small  provocation. 

Dick  Stratton  continued  to  hesitate. 

"  He'll  be  through  in  a  minute,"  observed  Tom  Kane 
placidly,  not  forgetting  to  sway  his  body  in  his  best  intox 
icated  manner. 

It  was  the  slack  hour  of  the  day,  but  half  a  dozen  men, 
attracted  by  the  yells  and  thumpings,  had  stopped  in  to 
see  the  fun.  Crowding  together  in  the  doorway,  peering 
over  each  other's  shoulders,  they  watched  the  fracas  with 
interest.  But  their  expressions  remained  noncommittal. 
By  which  it  may  be  inferred  that  they  felt  none  too  kindly 
toward  Art  Teller.  Had  it  been  otherwise,  there  would 
have  been  open  disapproval.  For  Red  and  Tom  were 
strangers  and  alone. 

"Get  the  marshal,  will  yuh,  Sam?"  called  the  bar 
tender  to  one  of  the  spectators  in  the  doorway. 

"  No  marshals  neither,"  forbade  Tom.  "  I'm  drunk. 
I  know  it.  So's  my  brother.  But  I'm  tellin'  you  flat, 
gents,  if  any  marshal  horns  into  this  fraycas  I  turn  both 


264  Lynch   Lawyers 

guns  loose.  I'm  a  peaceable  citizen,  but  I  don't  allow 
nobody  to  run  no  blazers  on  me.  I'll  try  to  get  my 
brother  away,  if  yuh  like,  but  no  marshals." 

"  I  wasn't  going  for  no  marshal  nohow,"  denied  the 
man  called  Sam.  "  I  ain't  lost  no  marshals.  '  Cockeye  ' 
can  roust  out  his  own  marshals." 

Cockeye,  who  it  seems  was  the  bartender,  affected  not 
to  hear  and  centered  all  his  attention  on  Red  and  the 
table.  Tom  approached  his  brother  cautiously.  He  took 
hold  of  Red's  shoulder.  Red  immediately  jerked  away 
from  him,  dropped  on  his  knees,  flung  aside  the  rem 
nants  of  the  table  and  clawed  and  clutched  the  throat  of 
Art  Teller. 

The  latter,  already  finding  great  difficulty  in  breathing, 
went  purple  as  to  the  face  and  popping  as  to  the  eyes 
when  Red  fastened  his  eight  long  fingers  at  the  back  of 
his  neck  and  two  strong  thumbs  on  his  windpipe. 

"  Leggo,  Red,"  urged  Tom  loudly.  "  Leggo,  will 
yuh?  There's  a  good  feller." 

But  the  good  feller  was  not  inclined  to  do  any  such 
thing.  He  continued  to  manhandle  the  unfortunate  Art 
Teller.  In  which  business  the  front  of  the  wretched 
man's  shirt  was  ripped  in  three  places.  Red,  the  pastime 
palling,  ceased  choking  Art  Teller  and  sat  back  on  his 
heels  —  the  heels  were  rooting  into  Art  Teller's  stomach 
at  the  time. 

"  Lookit  here,  yuh  lousy  pup,"  he  remarked  seriously, 
shaking  a  lean  forefinger  in  the  face  of  the  all  but  uncon 
scious  man,  "  don't  you  never  tell  me  I  can't  do  what  I 
wanna  do.  An'  don't  you  never  swear  at  me  neither. 
I'm  liable  to  lose  my  temper  an'  treat  yuh  rough  if  yuh  do. 
Say  '  Uncle/  you  wrinkled-faced  prune.  Say  '  Uncle ' 
'fore  I  smear  yore  nose  round  where  yore  ear  oughta  be." 

But  Art  Teller  was  long  past  speech.  Seeing  which, 
Red  got  to  his  feet,  wound  his  fingers  in  the  over-long  hair 
of  Art  Teller  and  dragged  him  out  through  the  barroom 


Rock   County   Men  265 

into  the  middle  of  the  street,  where  he  left  him  to  squirm 
feebly  in  the  manner  of  the  slimy  slug  when  the  day 
is  chilly. 

Red  returned  to  the  barroom  —  the  back  room  had 
served  its  purpose  —  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  and 
wiped  his  perspiring  face. 

"  Has  that  gent  any  friends  ?  "  he  asked  gravely,  looking 
at  Dick  Stratton,  and  jerking  a  thumb  streetwards. 

"  Some,"  said  Dick,  his  eyes  narrowing. 

"Not  that  I  giveadam,"  Red  continued  easily,  "only 
if  one  of  them  friends  wants  to  tell  that  Teller  gent  he 
can  have  anythin'  he  wants  of  me  by  sendin'  word  to  the 
hotel,  I'd  take  it  as  a  favor.  O'  course,  if  the  jigger 
wants  to  let  the  deal  drop,  fine  an'  dandy,  but  I  was  just 
thinkin'  he  might  feel  I'd  abused  him  or  somethin'.  You 
know  how  touchy  some  gents  are  —  always  lookin'  for 
trouble  thataway." 

It  was  wonderful  how  exercise  had  sobered  Red  Kane. 
There  was  a  dancing  demon  in  his  eye,  but  there  was  no 
hint  of  slurring  thickness  in  his  voice. 

"I'd  like  to  accommodate  Teller,"  he  went  on.  "I 
was  aimin'  to  leave  town  tomorrow  mornin'  early,  but 
I'll  lay  over  another  day  so's  to  give  him  alia  time  he 
wants.  Six-shooter,  rifle,  or  knife  —  he  can  take  his 
pick.  I'm  a  li'l  out  o'  practice  with  the  six-shooter, 
still  —  " 

He  broke  off  abruptly  and  went  out  again  into  the 
street. 

He  stood  upon  the  sidewalk,  all  the  folk  from  Rouse's 
Rest  clustering  at  his  back,  and  looked  reflectively  at  Art 
Teller  where  he  lay  prostrate  in  the  dust,  surrounded  by 
seven  or  eight  men.  One  of  the  men  was  holding  Teller's 
head  on  his  knee.  This  man  wore  a  marshal's  star. 
Tom  Kane,  leaning  with  every  appearance  of  unconcern 
against  the  wall  of  the  saloon,  swore  inwardly.  Red 
would  surely  pull  the  marshal  in.  Tom  felt  it  in  his 


266  Lynch   Lawyers 

bones.  This  thing  was  going  to  wind  up  in  the  smoke, 
and  quickly  too.  Tom  rested  the  palm  of  one  hand  on 
the  butt  of  the  gun  on  his  leg  and  hooked  the  thumb  of 
the  other  hand  into  his  waistband.  For,  between  that 
waistband  and  his  shirt,  an  extra  six-shooter  nudged  his 
hipbone. 

Red  folded  his  arms  and  stared  hard  at  the  marshal. 
He  noted  the  latter's  bulbous  nose  and  slack  mouth  and 
was  glad.  Not  that  he  would  have  been  unwilling  to 
face  a  man  with  a  stronger  fighting  face,  but  he  welcomed 
anything  however  trivial,  that  would  make  his  task  easier. 

"  Might  'a'  knowed  it,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  In  a 
townful  o'  bad  actors  the  marshal  is  always  a  weak  sister." 

Red  shuffled  his  feet  and  whistled  a  few  bars  of  "  Old 
Dan  Tucker."  This  to  call  attention  to  himself.  He 
succeeded. 

The  marshal  laid  down  Teller's  head  and  stood  up. 
But  it  was  not  he  who  left  the  group  and  walked  toward 
Rouse's  Rest.  It  was  another  man,  a  heavy-set  citizen 
with  bulgy,  square-cornered  jowls  and  vicious  little  eyes 
set  deep  in  his  head,  who  rolled  like  a  sailor  as  he  stepped 
along.  A  stride  from  the  sidewalk  he  halted. 

"  Who  done  that?"  he  demanded  of  the  multitude  at 
large,  with  a  backward  jerk  of  the  head  toward  the  man 
in  the  street. 

"  Talkin'  to  me?  "  inquired  Red  softly. 

"If  you  done  that,  I  am,"  declared  the  heavy-set  man 
in  a  tone  louder  than  seemed  necessary. 

"  An'  s'posin'  I  did,"  suggested  Red  in  an  even  softer 
voice.  "  You  wouldn't  hurt  a  li'l  feller  like  me,  would 
yuh?" 

"  Did  you  whang  up  Art  Teller  thataway  ?  "  cried  the 
man. 

"What  makes  yuh  think  I  did?"  Red  smiled  dis- 
armingly. 

He  was  aware  of  a  shuffling  in  his  rear.     The  crowd 


Rock   County   Men  267 

was  withdrawing  from  his  electric  vicinity.  It  was  using 
celerity  too.  Tom  alone  remained,  his  eyes  roaming 
everywhere.  Of  what  went  on  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Rouse's  Rest  he  missed  nothing  at  all. 

The  heavy-set  man  looked  at  Red  a  moment.  Red 
looked  at  him.  The  heavy-set  man  made  a  sudden  move 
ment.  So  did  Red.  A  derringer  barked  twice.  Gray 
smoke  enveloped  the  heavy-set  man  —  he  had  halted  not 
four  feet  from  Red.  A  dropped  six-shooter  hit  the  earth 
with  a  solid  chunk.  The  heavy-set  man  sat  down  sud 
denly  and  groaned  aloud.  One  derringer  bullet  had  shat 
tered  his  right  elbow,  the  other  had  torn  through  his  right 
forearm. 

Red  stood  quietly,  thin  lines  of  smoke  spiraling  upward 
from  the  twin  muzzles  of  the  derringer  balanced  in  his 
left  hand.  His  other  hand  lay  flat  against  the  butt  of 
his  six-shooter. 

"  Y'all  seen  it,  gents,"  said  he,  sidling  back  to  the  wall 
of  the  saloon.  "  It  was  a  even  break." 

"  Well  —  "  began  the  marshal  doubtfully. 

"  Don't  say  it,"  cut  in  a  harsh  voice  from  a  neighboring 
doorway.  "  You  ain't  ready  to  die  yet,  you  misguided 
fool !  " 

From  the  doorway  stepped  down  the  tall,  lean,  horse- 
faced  citizen  with  the  high  beaver  hat.  He  went  out 
into  the  street,  halted  a  few  paces  from  where  Red  stood, 
tucked  both  hands  beneath  his  coattails  and  gave  the 
assembly  of  Flipup's  inhabitants  the  benefit  of  his  intense 
stare. 

"  It's  just  as  this  gent  says,"  he  went  on,  turning  his 
head  toward  Red  an  instant.  "  It  was  a  even  break.  I 
seen  it.  Y'all  seen  it.  It  was  a  even  break,  wasn't  it, 
Marshal?" 

There  was  a  sublime  contempt,  a  mordant  sarcasm  in 
the  tone  accompanying  the  question.  Red  wondered  why. 
Later  he  learned  why. 


268  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  Shore  was  an  even  break,"  the  marshal  made  haste 
to  reply. 

The  lean  citizen  nodded,  worked  his  jaws  squirrel-wise 
a  moment  and  then  accurately  wet  down  a  rock  ten  feet 
distant  with  a  stream  of  tobacco  juice.  He  strode  briskly 
to  where  the  heavy-set  man  was  being  ministered  to  by 
a  couple  of  friends  and  stopped  in  front  of  him  and  peered 
at  him  malevolently. 

"  Yo're  a  fine  piece  o'  work,"  Red  heard  him  say.  "  A 
fi-ine  lump  o'  gullion." 

"I  — I  —  "  began  the  heavy-set  man,  backing  off. 

"  Shut  up,"  ordered  the  lean  citizen.  "  Yo're  through 
—  understand.  Yo're  through." 

The  lean  citizen  turned  his  back  on  the  heavy-set  man 
and  walked  out  to  where  Art  Teller  was  at  last  being 
assisted  to  his  wobbly  feet.  Disregarding  the  men  that 
held  Art  up,  the  lean  citizen  hunched  a  shoulder,  swung 
an  arm  and  knocked  Art  Teller  sprawling.  Not  content 
with  the  simple  blow,  he  needs  must  kick  Art  Teller  in 
the  ribs. 

"  Yo're  another  ring-tail  roarer,"  observed  the  lean 
citizen,  dealing  his  victim  another  kick.  "  A  real  howler, 
ain't  you,  just  like  '  Square-Face  '  Higby  ?  Reg'lar  pair 
o'  bad  men,  ain't  yuh?  Yuh  make  me  sick." 

He  kicked  Art  once  more  for  good  measure  and  crossed 
to  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  Rouse's  Rest. 

"  Stranger,"  he  said  to  Red  with  a  peculiarly  mirthless 
smile,  "  I  dunno  yore  name,  but  I  like  yore  style.  Some 
time,  when  yuh  ain't  got  nothin'  better  to  do,  come  see 
me.  Maybe  we  can  talk  business.  I'm  called  Bradley 
Usher."  ' 

He  nodded  in  a  manner  to  include  Tom  and  walked 
rapidly  away. 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-SEVEN 

SMOOTHER    THAN    BUTTER 

"  You  idjit !  "  snarled  Tom  when  he  and  his  brother 
had  withdrawn  to  the  comparative  privacy  of  the  corral, 
there  to  busy  themselves  ostensibly  with  the  feet  of  their 
horses.  "  What  did  yuh  have  to  go  wallopin'  that  Teller 
sharp  for  ?  " 

"  You  didn't  notice  when  he  was  in  that  game  with  us 
he'd  lost  the  second  button  off  his  shirt,  did  yuh  ?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't." 

"  Where  was  yore  eyes  ?  Well,  anyway,  he'd  lost  her, 
an',  when  he  slouched  down  in  his  chair,  the  shirt  bulged 
a  li'l  bit  an'  I  could  see  right  through  all  the  way,  'cause 
his  undershirt  didn't  have  no  buttons  on  it  a-tall." 

"  What  of  it?  Can't  a  gent  go  shy  his  buttons  without 
you  crawlin'  his  hump  thataway?  I'd  'a'  guessed  you 
was  drunk,  only  I  knowed  you  hadn't  had  enough  to  raz- 
zle  a  flea.  What  was  the  matter  with  you?  Was  you 
crazy?  " 

"  Shore  I  was  —  crazy  like  a  fox.  If  you'd  had  eyes 
in  yore  head  instead  of  a  couple  of  dried  raisins  —  which 
they  might  be  for  all  the  good  they  do  yuh  —  you'd  'a' 
took  notice  when  Teller's  shirt  bulged  —  she  only  done  it 
once  —  of  a  ring  he  had  hangin'  round  his  neck  by  a  piece 
of  string.  That  ring  was  a  gold  ring  with  three  dia 
monds.  What  kind  o'  ring  was  it  Dot  Lenton  said  her 
Uncle  Dick  owned  which  it  turned  up  missin'  along  with 
Uncle  Dick's  share  of  the  money?  " 

"  Oh,"  muttered  Tom,  making  believe  to  adjust  a  hack- 
amore  that  did  not  fit.  "  I  see.  Well  ?  " 


270  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  I  got  the  ring." 

"  You  got  the  ring!" 

"  Shore,  in  my  pants  pocket.  I  took  it  off  him  while 
I  was  makin'  such  a  show  o'  chokin'  him.  Lordy,  I  was 
in  a  sweat !  The  string  was  stout,  an'  I  shore  had  a  job 
to  bust  her  without  folks  catchin'  on.  Tom,  didn't  you 
guess  somethin'  was  up  when  I  said  we'd  have  to  deal  that 
hand  over?  " 

"  I  didn't  think  nothin'  o'  that  so  much  —  yo're  always 
playin'  the  fool  thataway,  but  I  shore  felt  like  scratchin' 
my  head  when  you  pushed  the  table  down  on  him  an' 
wrastled  him  round  instead  o'  shootin'  him.  I  didn't 
understand  that  —  it  was  dangerous.  You  was  takin' 
too  big  a  chance,  at  that.  You  could  'a'  worked  it  the 
same  way  with  a  gun." 

"  Maybe,  maybe  not.  But  I  didn't  wanna  use  no  gun. 

I  don't  want  no  bullet leastways  not  if  I  can  help 

it  —  in  Art  Teller.  Unventilated,  we  might  be  able  to 
use  him." 

"How?" 

11  Thisaway  —  Here  comes  somebody." 

The  somebody  was  horse-faced  Mr.  Usher.  He  ap 
proached  them,  picking  his  way  daintily  among  the  horses 
in  the  corral,  his  high  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  his 
hands  in  the  pockets  of  his  trousers.  There  was  some 
thing  almost  feminine  in  the  way  he  placed  his  feet. 
When  he  chose,  he  could  step  lightly.  In  another  this 
would  have  been  ludicrous,  but  it  was  not  in  Mr.  Bradley 
Usher.  For  it  was  the  lightness  and  the  femininity  of 
the  hungry  beast  of  prey. 

He  nodded  civilly  to  Red  and  Tom,  spread  his  legs  and 
critically  regarded  the  two  horses  they  were  tending. 

"Wanna  sell  that  black,  stranger?"  he  said  to  Red. 
"  The  one  with  the  white  stockin'  in  the  corner  there?  " 

"  I  might,"  was  the  grave  response,  "  if  I  owned  him." 

"  I  heard  you  had  a  good-lookin'  black." 


Smoother   Than    Butter        271 

The  intense  gaze  met  Red's  eye  and  steadied  to  a 
straight  stare. 

"  You  heard  right,"  confirmed  Red.  "  I  got  a  good- 
lookin'  black.  But  the  accordeen  with  the  white  stockin' 
ain't  him.  Yonder  he  stands  —  him  with  the  Cross  Eight 
brand." 

He  indicated  his  own  black  pony  where  it  stood  dozing 
on  three  legs. 

"  I  heard  he  was  a  good-lookin'  hoss,"  grumbled  Mr. 
Usher. 

"  He  is." 

"  I  don't  think  much  of  him."     Bluntly. 

"You  don't  have  to — not  ownin'  him." 

"No  —  not  ownin'  him  I  don't.  I  don't  —  not  ownin' 
him." 

Red  strove  to  pierce  the  blank  intensity  of  those  strange 
eyes  to  what  lay  behind.  But  this  he  could  not  do.  Mr. 
Usher's  wide,  thin-lipped  mouth  stretched  into  a  toothful 
smile. 

"  No,"  said  Red,  "  not  ownin'  him  like  you  say,  it  don't 
matter  what  you  think,  do  it?  " 

"  That  is  a  question."  Mr.  Usher  nodded  an  oracular 

head.  "  That is  —  a  question.  Sometimes  what  I 

think  matters  a  lot.  It  depends." 

"  Yeah,"  drawled  Red,  "  I  guess  so." 

Again  the  toothful,  wholly  mirthless  smile. 

"  I'll  be  in  my  office  at  seven,"  said  Mr.  Usher.  "  I'll 
be  glad  to  see  both  of  yuh.  Maybe  yuh'll  hear  somethin' 
to  yore  advantage  if  yuh  come  in." 

Mr.  Usher  nodded  abruptly  and  departed,  coat-tails 
flapping.  It  was  noticeable  that  now  he  did  not  pick  his 
way.  He  strode  along  as  one  who  plainly  sees  his  goal. 
Doubtless  he  did  see  it.  For  the  Mr.  Ushers  of  this 
wicked  world  are  a  sanguine  breed  of  folk. 

"  I  ain't  none  shore  about  that  cheerful  lookin'  buz 
zard."  Tom  wagged  a  pessimistic  head. 


272  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  We're  gonna  go  see  him  alia  same,"  Red  declared 
with  finality. 

"  Oh,  shore,  we  gotta,  but  —  " 

"  We  got  eyes,  ain't  we?     We  got  our  guns,  an'  —  " 

"  Hell's  bells,  that  don't  worry  me !  He  knows  some- 
thin',  that  long-reached  stepladder  does.  An'  what  is  it? 
That's  what  I  wanna  know.  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  We'll  find  out.  There  goes  the  hotel  dish  pan.  C'- 
mon.  I'm  hungry." 

At  half-past  seven  —  they  did  not  wish  to  appear  too 
anxious  —  they  pushed  open  the  door  of  Mr.  Usher's 
office  and  entered.  In  a  chair  behind  a  table,  his  heels 
resting  on  the  table,  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  head, 
sat  Mr.  Usher.  He  was  still  wearing  his  high  hat. 

"  Take  chairs,  gents,"  he  invited  without  budging. 
"  They's  cigars  in  that  box.  Help  yoreselves." 

They  took  the  chairs  but  not  the  cigars.  They  had  no 
mind  to  smoke  at  Mr.  Usher's  expense.  They  rolled  cig 
arettes  instead  and  looked  about  them.  It  was  an  asceti- 
cally  furnished  place  of  business,  this  office.  A  great 
safe  in  the  corner,  a  table,  four  chairs  —  nothing  more. 
Not  even  a  calendar  hung  upon  the  wall. 

"  Nice  evenin',"  observed  Mr.  Usher. 

"Shore,"  assented  Red. 

"  Kind  o'  hot,"  qualified  Mr.  Usher,  jack-knifing  his 
long  body  out  of  the  chair  and  going  to  the  window. 

"  Hot  is  right.  I  s'pose  now  that's  why  yo're  closin' 
the  window." 

Mr.  Usher  tidily  placed  the  window  prop  on  top  of  the 
sash,  and  turned. 

"  I  enjoy  a  stuffy  room,"  he  said  and  removed  his  high 
hat  and  went  through  the  process  of  obtaining  a  chew  of 
tobacco.  It  was  evident  that  the  operation  never  varied 
in  method.  It  might  almost  have  been  a  rite. 

When  the  hat  was  back  on  his  head  and  his  jaws  were 
working  over  the  lump  in  his  cheek,  he  went  to  the  door 


Smoother   Than   Butter        273 

and  bolted  it  with  an  iron  bolt  a  yard  long  and  half  as 
thick  as  a  man's  wrist. 

"  Might's  well  go  where  we  can  talk,"  said  he  and 
opened  a  door  in  the  back  of  the  room. 

This  door  gave  ingress  to  Usher's  warehouse  —  a  huge 
room  filled  with  all  manner  of  merchandise.  There  were 
cases  of  whisky  and  brandy,  barrels  of  china,  crates  of 
tinware,  saddles  —  riding  and  pack,  old  and  new  —  strad 
dled  racks  from  which  depended  bridles  and  heavy 
freighting  harness  in  all  degrees  of  repair.  There  were 
wheelbarrows,  whole  companies  of  miners'  shovels,  picks 
and  drills.  Part  of  one  side  was  stacked  to  the  roof  with 
cases,  some  stenciled  "  Blankets  —  Bed  ",  others  marked 
"  Blankets  —  Saddle."  Next  to  these  cases  were  seven 
wide  mirrors  of  the  type  made  and  provided  for  the  sa 
loon  trade.  Cuddling  the  mirrors  was  a  cookstove  upon 
which  were  aligned  three  copper  washboilers.  Between 
the  cookstove  and  three  knocked-down  wooden  beds  and 
their  rolled  mattresses  was  a  child's  cradle.  It  was  man 
ifest  that  Mr.  Usher's  sign  told  the  truth. 

Through  this  fantastic  agglomeration  of  commercial 
articles  Mr.  Usher  led  the  way  to  the  opposite  end  of  the 
warehouse.  Here  a  corner  had  been  partitioned  off  into  a 
room  some  fifteen  feet  square. 

This  room  was  as  slimly  furnished  as  the  office.  There 
was  a  bed,  the  blankets  tumbled,  two  chairs,  a  home-made 
desk  covered  with  a  red-chestnut  horsehide,  and  a  wash- 
stand  contrived  of  a  packing-case,  provided  with  a  bucket 
of  water,  an  agateware  basin,  a  yellow  bar  of  laundry 
soap  and  a  towel  that  had  at  a  date  long  past  been  white. 
A  bracketed  shelf  nailed  to  the  wall  above  the  washstand 
held  sundry  pint  and  quart  bottles,  and  a  can  or  two. 
One  of  the  quart  bottles,  the  only  one  wrapped  in  paper, 
stood  dangerously  near  the  edge  of  the  shelf. 

Mr.  Usher  waved  his  guests  to  the  chairs  and  seated 
himself  on  one  end  of  the  packing-case  washstand.  He 


274  Lynch   Lawyers 

crossed  one  leg  over  the  other  and  clasped  his  long-fin 
gered  hands  round  a  bony  knee. 

Red  hooked  his  thumbs  in  the  armholes  of  his  vest, 
teetered  back  on  the  rear  legs  of  his  chair  and  stared  up 
at  the  skylights  all  dusty-golden  in  the  rays  of  the  slanting 
sun.  He  dropped  his  eyes  to  Usher's  level.  The  latter 
seemed  lost  in  thought.  His  jaws  were  working  very 
slowly.  He  was  looking  intently  at  a  crack  in  the 
floor. 

Red's  gaze,  wandering  past  the  money-lender,  skimmed 
the  top  of  the  desk,  rested  indifferently  on  a  letter  file 
armed  with  a  naked  eight-inch  spike,  passed  on  and  passed 
over  a  small  but  exceedingly  interesting  object  a  foot  be 
yond  the  file. 

Red  unhooked  a  thumb,  raised  his  hand  and  slowly 
scratched  an  ear.  This  necessitated  the  turning  of  his 
head  somewhat  and  allowed  him  to  scrutinize  in  the  most 
natural  manner  the  small  object  in  the  neighborhood  of 
the  file. 

This  small  object  was  the  head,  beautifully  carved  in 
wood,  of  an  Indian  girl.  Complete  in  every  detail,  this 
head,  while  at  least  three  times  larger,  bore  an  amazing 
resemblance  to  the  head  Red  had  seen  in  the  possession  of 
Bill  Derr. 

Feature  for  feature  the  heads  were  the  same,  the  man 
who  carved  them  had  had  the  same  picture  in  his  mind  in 
both  instances  as  he  whittled  and  cut  —  and  he  had 
been  the  same  man.  On  that  point  there  could  be  no 
doubt. 

John  Hudson,  the  desired  of  the  law,  had  again  popped 
his  head  above  the  surface  of  the  sea  of  oblivion  into 
which  he  had  sunk  when  Bill  Derr  failed  to  identify  him 
in  the  person  of  Ben  Lenton. 

Red  ceased  scratching  his  ear,  slumped  down  in  his 
chair  and  sleepily  lowered  his  eyelids.  What  connection 
could  there  be  between  Bradley  Usher  and  John  Hudson  ? 


Smoother   Than   Butter        275 

Perhaps  that  rat  hole  was  empty.  Mr.  Usher  might  have 
come  by  the  head  quite  innocently.  It  was  a  toss-up. 
Red  did  not  know  what  to  think. 

"  Did  yuh  know,"  Mr.  Usher  began  abruptly  to  Red's 
address,  "  that  you  put  the  kibosh  on  two  o'  my  best 
men?" 

"  That's  tough  luck  —  for  them,"  answered  Red,  rous 
ing  and  stiffening. 

"  Ain't  it?  "  Dryly.  "  Yuh  see,"  Mr.  Usher  contin 
ued  after  a  moment,  "  losin'  two  men  thataway  sort  o' 
puts  me  in  a  hole." 

"  Yeah  ?  Well,  yuh  got  my  sympathy.  But  I  don't 
guess  they're  as  bad  hurt  as  you  think.  Art  Teller's 
only  bruised  a  lot,  unless  you  caved  in  his  slats  yoreself 
when  yuh  kicked  him.  An'  that  Square  Face  boy  has 
only  got  a  couple  of  holes  in  his  arm.  Give  him  a  month, 
an'  he'll  be  all  so  fine  an'  dandy.  Anyway,  why  belly 
ache  to  me  ?  " 

"  When  yuh  know  me  better,  Stranger,"  was  the  un 
moved  response,  "  yuh'll  find  out  I  never  bellyache,  not 
never  nohow.  Square  Face'll  never  use  that  arm  again, 
leastaways  for  gun-fightin'  he  won't.  Doc  Alton  says 
she'll  be  stiff  till  he  cashes.  But  that  ain't  what's  both- 
erin'  me.  It's  their  nerve.  They've  been  licked,  the  both 
of  'em,  an'  licked  good  —  Art  special.  From  now  on 
they  won't  have  the  guts  they  had  before.  Square  Face 
showed  he  wouldn't  stand  the  acid  right  after  he  was 
shot.  Yesterday  I  couldn't  'a'  talked  to  him  like  I  did 
without  a  battle.  To-day  he  quit  cold.  An'  I'm  gamblin' 
Art  Teller  will  be  even  more  meachin'. 

"  Them  two  sports  you  run  yore  brand  on  was  a  heap 
useful  to  me.  I  didn't  keep  'em  so  busy  they  didn't  have 
time  to  enjoy  'emselves  none,  but,  when  they  was  workin', 
they  chawed  up  sixty  minutes  every  hour.  I  need  two 
men  in  their  places." 

Mr.  Usher  paused,  disentangled  the  hands  clasped  on 


276  Lynch   Lawyers 

his  knee  and  closely  examined  his  finger  nails.  The  in 
spection  proving  satisfactory,  he  reclasped  his  hands  and 
looked  at  Red  and  his  brother. 

"  Meanin'  ?"  inquired  Red. 

"  She's  yore  move." 

"  I  ain't  played  checkers  for  so  long  I  most  forgot  how 
—  but  s'pose  now  we  don't  wanna  move  ?  " 

"  I  pay  one  hundred  a  month  an'  keep  at  the  hotel." 

"  I  guess  maybe  the  work  ain't  punchin'  cows." 

"  Not  so  yuh  could  notice." 

"  Just  what  might  it  be?  "  asked  Tom  flatly. 

"  Obeyin'  orders." 

"  Oh,  yeah,"  said  Red,  "  that's  fine,  but  we  gotta  know 
what  yo're  figgerin'  on  us  dqin'  so's  to  earn  a  hundred  a 
month." 

"Ain't  you  kind  o'  partic'lar?" 

"  Depends  on  where  yuh  happen  to  be  sittin'.  From 
here  we  ain't  a  bit  partic'lar." 

"  Maybe,  but  I  still  think  yo're  kind  o'  partic'lar  alia 
same  —  kind  o'  partic'lar  for .  folks  ownin'  three  hair- 
branded  hosses." 

Red  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  slapped  his  leg  and 
laughed  and  laughed  and  laughed  again.  So  likewise 
did  Tom,  but  not  so  loudly. 

"  Y'old  fox !  "  exclaimed  Red  when  he  could  speak. 
"Might  'a'  knowed  we  couldn't  fool  you!  Yuh  gotta 
admit  that  hair-brandin'  was  shore  one  work  of  art." 

"  All  o'  that,"  nodded  Mr.  Usher.  "  It  would  look 
right  good  to  most  people,  but  my  eyes  are  pretty  sharp  — 
pretty  sharp.  I  don't  know  what  yore  business  is,  an' 
I  don't  wanna  know — keep  right  on  with  yore  fairy 
tale  o'  sellin'  a  ranch  —  an'  —  " 

"  You  must  'a'  been  talkin'  to  Cockeye  or  that  Stratton 
gent,"  Red  interrupted  accusingly. 

"  They  was  talkin'  to  me.  What  difference  does  it 
make?" 


Smoother   Than   Butter        277 

"None  a-tall.  We're  all  li'l  friends  together.  Oh, 
yes,  indeedy.  An'  we  didn't  sell  no  ranch,  huh?  You 
hear  that,  Tom?" 

"  She  must  be  true,"  grinned  Tom.  "  The  gent  says 
so  himself." 

"  Yeah,  well,  as  the  gent  was  just  gonna  say,  here's 
two  jobs  open  for  two  partic'lar  gents  to  wrastle  with 
while  they're  waitin'  to  sell  another  ranch.  One  hun 
dred  a  month  apiece,  keep  an'  pickin's.  All  you  gotta  do, 
if  yo're  still  so  set  on  knowin'  beforehand,  is  look  out 
after  my  interests.  I  got  several." 

"  I  noticed  that,"  said  Red. 

"  Yore  eyes  are  most  as  good  as  mine  an*  lookin'  out 
after  my  interests  will  shore  keep  'em  good.  In  my  busi 
ness  yuh  can  easy  see  how  me  an'  other  gents  mightn't 
always  hit  it  off.  Most  folks  is  stubborn  as  mules  an' 
can  only  see  one  side  of  a  argument.  An'  they  gotta  be 
showed.  It  ain't  always  convenient  for  me  to  do  the 
showin'.  I  gotta  spend  most  o'  my  time  right  here  in 
town  or  at  the  Empire.  I  can't  be  ridin'  the  range  alia 
time  collectin'  what's  owin'  me." 

"  An'  we're  to  do  the  collectin',  huh  ?  "  Red  smiled 
broadly. 

"  You'll  see  that  it's  done,"  Mr.  Usher  replied  ambigu 
ously,  "  an'  you'll  keep  me  from  bein'  gouged  out  o'  my 
rights  by  slick  fellers  with  rough  corners.  O'  course,  yuh 
can't  always  skin  a  two-legged  calf  without  killin'  him." 

"  As  a  rule  yuh  can't,"  admitted  Red. 
'  Yuh  get  the  idea.     Get  this  one :  I  don't  wanna  see 
no  two-legged  calves  downed  unless  she's  necessary,  an* 
you'll  be  the  judge  o'  what's  necessary,  but  any  time  yuh 
gotta  beef  one  you  get  one  hundred  dollars  bonus." 

"  Apiece  —  no  matter  who  does  the  killin'  ?  " 

The  callous  devil  nodded.  Red  did  not  dare  look  at 
his  brother.  He  rolled  his  eyes  upward  and  puckered  his 
lips  and  whistled  a  nameless  tune. 


278  Lynch    Lawyers 

"  Oughta  be  more,"  said  Red  suddenly.  "  This  here's 
a  new  layout  for  us,  an'  —  " 

"  Say  one  hundred  an'  a  quarter  apiece,"  chipped  in 
Tom. 

"  That's  only  two  fifty  per  calf,"  said  Red.  "  Dirt 
cheap." 

Mr.  Usher  chewed  awhile  in  silence.  Finally  he 
nodded. 

"  All  right,"  said  he,  "  I'll  go  yuh.  What  may  I  call 
you  gents?  .  .  .  Red  Carey  an'  Tom  Carey?  Brothers, 
huh?  An'  that  ranch  yuh  sold  —  where  did  yuh  say  it 
was?" 

"  We  didn't  say,"  smiled  Red. 

"  My  mistake.  I  thought  yuh  did.  It  don't  matter  — 
not  a-tall.  But  that  Cross  Eight  black  pony  is  sort  of 
interestin',  kind  o'.  That  might  'a'  been  the  Bar  S  brand 
at  one  time." 

"Meanin'?" 

Red's  tone  was  cold  as  a  blizzard.  His  eyes  were 
colder. 

Tom's  chair  creaked  as  the  sitter  moved  ever  so 
slightly. 

"  No  offense,  gents,"  Mr.  Usher  said  calmly.  "  But  if 
that  Cross  Eight  pony  was  ever  a  Bar  S  hoss  —  yuh 
needn't  go  huntin'  for  nothin'  hostyle  in  them  words, 
'cause  nothin's  meant  —  I'm  only  thinkin'  yuh  can  tell  me 
somethin',  maybe." 

"  Then  come  to  the  point,"  Red  advised  him  sharply. 
"  No  need  to  travel  ten  miles  to  go  two." 

"  Have  you  lately  been  in  Fort  Creek  County  in  —  " 
Here  he  named  the  territory. 

"  We  might." 

"  Might  you  have  been  by  any  chance  in  a  town  called 
Farewell?" 

"  We  might  'a'  been  there  too." 

"  Might  you  have  cut  the  trail  anywhere  o'  three  gents 


Smoother   Than    Butter        279 

—  a  sheriff  named  Lumley,  an'  his  two  deputies,  Billy 
Bruff  an'  Dune  Rouse  ?  " 

"  We  might  'a'  done  that.  We  ain't  partic'lar  what 
we  look  at.  Sheriffs,  deputies,  marshals  —  they  all  look 
alike  to  us."  The  sardonic  devil  in  Red's  gray  eyes  leaped 
and  danced  and  made  merry.  "  Shore  we  seen  'em  — 
them  three  you  mean.  An'  I'll  say  I  never  saw  gents  so 
out  o'  luck  in  all  my  luck." 

"Outo'  luck?" 

"  Yeah  —  gamblin'.  The  sheriff,  Lumley,  bucked  the 
wheel  one  night  an'  quit  six  thousand  loser.  Tried  to  win 
her  back  the  next  night  an'  dropped  three.  Went  to  it 
again,  an'  inside  o'  one  li'l  hour  he  went  shy  a  thousand 
odd  an'  quit  broke.  He  never  played  no  more  after  that. 
But  the  other  two,  they  played.  I  guess  yes.  I've  seen 
gamblin'  men,  but  them  two  could  give  any  gamblers  I 
ever  seen  the  first  bite  an'  win  with  one  hand  tied. 
Mornin',  noon  an'  night  —  draw,  stud,  blackjack,  faro, 
roulette,  anythin'.  They'd  even  chuck  dice  for  a  change. 

"  They  didn't  lose  so  much  as  the  sheriff  —  thousand 
or  fifteen  hundred  apiece  maybe.  They  was  still  hard 
at  it  when  we  left  town.  Seemed  to  be  well  fixed  for 
cash." 

Mr.  Usher's  expression  as  Red  unfolded  this  sordid 
tale  did  not  change.  But  the  knuckles  of  the  hands 
gripped  round  his  knee  were  bloodless  when  Red  stopped 
speaking. 

"  They  went  north  to  bring  back  a  murderer  who  had 
settled  near  Farewell,"  remarked  Mr.  Usher  quietly. 
"Did  they  catch  him?" 

"  Aw,  you  mean  Lorimer,  out  there  by  Sweetwater 
Mountain.  We  heard  about  that.  Shore  was  a  joke  on 
them  fellers.  They  arrested  him  all  right,  but  he  got 
away  while  they  was  bringin'  him  to  Farewell.  Hell's 
bells,  I  dunno  what  was  the  matter  with  'em.  Three 
gents  all  organized  with  six-shooters  an'  Winchesters,  an* 


280  Lynch   Lawyers 

the  prisoner  drags  it  easy  as  yuh  please.  I'll  bet  if  Jake 
Rule  or  his  deputy,  Kansas  Casey,  had  been  along,  he 
wouldn't  'a'  made  it,  not  by  a  jugful.  I  ain't  got  no 
special  cause  to  be  friendly  with  either  Sheriff  Rule  or 
Kansas,  but  I'll  say  this  for  'em  —  they  don't  lose  no 
prisoners." 

"  Didn't  they  try  to  catch  Lenton  —  Lenton's  his 
name  here  ?  " 

"  Aw,  they  tried,"  drawled  Red,  contempt  rampant  in 
his  tone.  "  But  you  don't  catch  no  prisoners  playin'  the 
wheel." 

"  They  was  out  with  a  posse  two  or  three  days,  I 
heard,"  contributed  Tom,  fearful  that  Red  was  coming  it 
a  bit  thick. 

"  Yeah,  an'  rode  the  range  to  the  south  an'  east  —  just 
where  he  wouldn't  go.  Too  many  ranches  thataway. 
Northwest  now  —  that's  where  they  should  'a'  gone. 
Take  it  from  me,  Lorimer  —  or  Lenton  —  rode  north 
west  or  north.  Maybe  he  went  as  far  north  as  the  Dog- 
soldier  or  Paradise  Bend.  Once  you  let  him  get  in  the 
Gov'ment  Hills,  yuh  might  as  well  wave  yore  hat  good-by. 
Yuh'll  never  see  him  again." 

"  Maybe  he  headed  for  the  Three  Sisters,"  suggested 
Mr.  Usher. 

"  He  might,"  admitted  Red.     "  Yuh  never  can  tell." 

"  Was  it  before  or  after  the  arrest  an'  escape  o'  Lenton 
that  Lumley  an'  his  two  friends  began  to  gamble?" 
Thus  Mr.  Usher  staring  at  Red. 

"  After,"  was  the  prompt  reply.  "  Leastaways,  if  they 
gambled  before,  we  didn't  hear  about  it." 

"  I  see,"  murmured  Mr.  Usher.     "  I  see." 

He  rose  to  his  feet,  yawning  widely,  and  stretched  with 
much  standing  on  tiptoe  and  twisting  of  long-muscled 
arms.  One  arm  in  its  sweep  jogged  the  paper-wrapped 
quart  bottle  which  stood  near  the  edge  of  the  shelf  above 
the  washstand.  The  bottle  tottered  to  a  fall.  Mr. 


Smoother  Than   Butter        281 

Usher,  reaching  quickly  to  save  it,  misjudged  his  distance, 
smacked  it  with  his  knuckles  and  sent  it  spinning  across 
the  room  to  smash  itself  to  bits  upon  the  red-chestnut 
horsehide  that  covered  the  desk. 

" >>  remarked  Mr.  Usher,  tearing  the  back  from 

a  writing-pad  and  brushing  up  the  sopping  mess  of  torn 
paper  and  broken  glass.  "  I  guess  that'll  be  all  for  now, 
gents.  S'pose  you  come  see  me  in  the  mornin'.  I  may 
have  a  HI  jag  o'  work  for  yuh." 


CHAPTER    TWENTY-EIGHT 

A    CHECK 

"  SAY,  Red,"  whispered  Tom  in  Red's  ear,  "  you've  done 
took  too  big  a  chance.  You've  sp'iled  the  deal,  I  tell  yuh. 
S'pose  they  write  back  here  an'  tell  him  just  how  Ben 
Lenton  did  make  his  escape?  S'pose  they  do,  huh?  " 

"  They  won't,"  returned  the  serene  Red.  "  They  das- 
sent.  How'd  they  look  tellin'  how  they  was  held  up  an' 
handcuffed  an'  the  window  sash  dropped  on  their  necks  ? 
Shore,  I  know  they  got  a  long  tale  of  a  gang  an'  all,  but 
at  that  the  way  they  acted  don't  show  up  none  too  well. 
You  see  what  Usher's  like,  don't  yuh  ?  He  wants  action, 
not  excuses.  Do  yuh  think  they're  gonna  hand  him  any 
excuses?  They  are  not.  They'll  keep  what's  happened 
under  their  hats  awhile,  y'bet  yuh." 

"  Maybe  yo're  right.  Once  in  a  year  or  two  yuh  are. 
That  notion  o'  tellin'  about  them  three  sports  gamblin' 
was  slam-up  bright.  Just  what  I  was  gonna  tell  him  my 
self  if  you  hadn't." 

"  You  couldn't  'a'  worked  out  a  idea  like  that  in  a  mil 
lion  years.  Notice  how  he  swallowed  it  ?  Easy  —  well, 
I'd  tell  folks  so." 

"  Will  it  start  Usher  north  ?  That's  the  next  card  in 
the  pack." 

"  I  dunno,  but  it'll  start  business  a-movin'.  Usher  ain't 
the  gent  to  sit  still  an'  suck  his  thumbs  when  he's  bein' 
razzledazzled.  Nawsir,  not  that  long-legged  stepladder. 
Give  him  time  to  think  it  out  an'  get  it  sot  in  his  mind  that 
Ben  Lenton  gave  them  three  jiggers  the  thirty  thousand 


A   Check  283 

to  be  let  off,  an'  things  are  gonna  move,  you  hear  me 
whistlin'.  An',  when  they  do  get  a-boilin'  good,  it'll  be 
a  shame,  if  you'n  me  with  our  li'l  spoons  can't  skim  some- 
thin'  off  the  top." 

"  It'll  be  worse'n  a  shame.  We'd  deserve  lynchin'. 
I  wonder  what  he  takes  us  for  —  hoss  thieves?  " 

"  An'  road  agents  most  like.  He  thinks  we're  bad  as 
him,  anyway.  Gawd,  what  a  stinkin'  polecat  he  is! 
Makes  yuh  wanna  spit  every  time  yuh  look  at  him." 

"  One  thing,  he  wouldn't  renig  at  killin'  Dick  Lenton, 
that's  a  cinch." 

"  He  wouldn't  renig  at  nothin'  so  it  was  low-down,  the 
skunk.  Notice  anythin'  partic'lar  on  that  desk  of  his, 
Tom  —  over  beyond  the  letter  file?  " 

"  From  where  I  was  sittin'  them  long  knees  of  his  was 
in  the  way.  What  was  it?  ...  Huh?  A  Injun  head 
like  what  Bill  Derr  had  ?  That's  —  shore  —  a  odd  num 
ber." 

"Ain't  it?" 

"  What's  it  mean?" 

"  It  don't  mean  nothin'  good,  an'  yuh  can  stick  a  pin  in 
that." 

"  I'm  gonna  go  stick  my  head  on  a  piller.     C'mon." 

"  Not  me.  I  gotta  stay  right  here  so's  I  can  watch  the 
corral  where  Mister  Art  Teller  keeps  his  hoss.  I  wanna 
whisper  somethin'  in  his  ear  before  he  leaves  our  middlin' 
midst." 

"  I  s'pose  he  will  be  slidin'  out,"  said  Tom  thought 
fully. 

"  Soon's  he  can,  y'bet  yuh.  He  ain't  a  complete  fool. 
Lookit!  that's  him  now." 

Faintly  visible  in  the  semi-darkness,  the  figure  of  a 
limping  man  approached  the  corral  gate.  The  man  was 
dragging  a  saddle.  They  could  hear  the  leather  squeak 
ing. 

The  man  opened  the  gate,  passed  in  and  pulled  it  to 


284  Lynch   Lawyers 

behind  him.  Sounded  then  a  scurrying  and  a  plunging 
within  the  corral.  The  startled  horses  were  enlivening 
the  occasion.  A  rope  slapped  against  the  posts.  The 
man  had  missed  his  cast. 

"  Hear  him  cuss,"  whispered  Red  in  delight.  "  He's 
friend  Art  all  right." 

Ten  minutes  later  Teller,  leading  a  saddled  horse,  is 
sued  from  the  corral  gateway.  Turning  round  from  fas 
tening  the  gate,  his  peace  of  mind  was  rudely  disturbed 
by  a  prodding  at  his  ribs.  Art  Teller,  his  biceps  cuddling 
his  ears,  went  painfully  stiff  on  the  instant.  He  knew  a 
gun  muzzle  when  he  felt  one. 

"  Le's  go  where  wre  can  talk,"  invited  the  voice  of  the 
man  who  had  beaten  him. 

Art  Teller  was  moved  to  accept,  if  not  gladly,  at  least 
with  alacrity. 

"  I'll  just  take  yore  gun,"  whispered  Tom  and  took  it, 
carefully  patting  the  captive  from  knees  to  neck  in  search 
of  a  possible  hide-out. 

Within  ten  minutes  Art  Teller  was  squatting  on  the 
ground  under  a  cottonwood  tree  a  quarter-mile  out  of 
Flipup.  Facing  him  Red  and  Tom  sat  on  their  heels. 
Tom  held  the  reins  of  Art's  horse. 

"Why  you  leavin'  town?"  asked  Red. 

"  I  got  business,"  replied  Art  Teller  sullenly. 

"  Shore,  I  know  yiih  got  business.  Everybody's  got 
business.  We  got  business,  too.  An'  my  business  is 
findin'  out  where  you  got  that  three-diamond  ring." 

"  So  yo're  the  gent  —  "  began  Art  Teller  hotly,  and 
stopped. 

"  I'm  the  gent  took  it  off  yore  neck,  if  that's  what  yo're 
gettin'  at,  feller.  That  ring  was  stole  from  me  six  year 
ago  over  in  Cheyenne,  Wyoming,  an'  I  wanna  know  where 
you  got  it." 

"  I  didn't  take  it  off  o'  you,  anyhow,"  was  the  sulky 
reply. 


A   Check  285 

"  Maybe  not.     Where  did  yuh  get  it?  " 

"  It  was  give  to  me." 

"Who  by?" 

"  A  friend  o'  mine." 

"What's  his  name?" 

"  He's  got  different  names.  S'pose  I  show  yuh  his 
picture.  How'll  that  do  ?  " 

"If  yo're  thinkin'  on  gamblin'  with  us,"  said  the  sus 
picious  Red,  "  think  again." 

"  Not  much  I  ain't,"  was  the  fervent  declaration. 
"  Picture's  in  my  vest  pocket  with  some  letters.  Here, 
feel  for  yourself." 

Red  felt. 

"  Yank  her  out,"  said  he,  satisfied. 

Tom's  six-shooter  had  been  trained  on  Art  Teller  from 
the  moment  he  sat  down.  Red,  on  the  other  hand,  trailed 
his  gun  across  his  thigh,  the  barrel  pointing  at  the  ground. 
He  reached  up  to  his  hatband  for  a  match. 

Although  the  starlight  was  bright,  it  was  dark  enough 
under  the  cottonwood.  The  dimly  outlined  Mr.  Teller 
pulled  a  whitish  packet  from  an  inner  vest  pocket.  The 
component  parts  of  this  packet  he  shuffled  as  one  shuffles 
a  pack  of  cards.  Then  he  thumbed  them  over  slowly. 

He  finally  selected  one  and  laid  it  on  his  knee  and 
smoothed  it  flat  with  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

"  Here,"  he  said  an  odd  quiver  in  his  voice.  "  Got  a 
match?" 

Red  leaned  forward  and  scratched  the  match.  At  the 
instant  of  its  flaring  alight,  while  his  eyes  were  tempor 
arily  dazzled,  Art  Teller  swung  his  right  arm  and  struck 
Red  a  stinging  smash  on  the  cheek-bone.  Red  toppled 
over  straightway  against  Tom,  knocking  the  latter  off  his 
balance  and  sending  his  well-meant  and  better-aimed 
bullet  wide  by  a  yard. 

For  a  citizen  who  had  recently  received  a  thundering 
manhandling  Art  Teller's  exhibition  of  swift  action  was 


286  Lynch   Lawyers 

marvelous.  He  was  coming  to  his  feet  as  he  struck  the 
blow  at  Red.  He  did  not  strike  again  but  dived  headlong 
for  his  reins,  scooped  them  from  the  ground  where  Tom 
had  dropped  them,  started  his  horse  on  the  jump  and 
swung  up  with  the  animal  going  full  stretch. 

Before  Tom  could  fire  again,  the  greatly  chagrined  Red 
drove  the  heel  of  his  hand  hard  down  on  Tom's  hammer- 
cocking  thumb. 

"Don't  shoot!"  he  commanded.  "  Yuh  might  kill 
him." 

"  I  was  countin'  on  doin'  that,"  rejoined  his  brother, 
angry  and  nonplussed.  "  Whatsa  matter  with  yuh?  " 

"  Nothing  but  they's  somethin'  the  matter  with  you, 
you  squallin'  idjit!  We  gotta  find  out  somethin'  from 
this  gent;  if  he  passes  out,  we  can't." 

"  We  can't  anyway,"  Tom  snarled  bitterly.  "  Listen 
to  them  hoofs,  will  yuh?  He'll  be  a  mile  away  in  a 
shake." 

"  Can't  help  it,  Tom.  I  tell  yuh  we  can't  run  no  risk 
of  downin'  Mister  Teller.  So  far  he's  the  only  gent  we 
got  any  real  evidence  against.  We'll  find  him  again, 
don't  yuh  fret.  Say,  ain't  I  got  a  right  to  feel  worse'n 
you  do?  It  was  my  fault  he  got  away.  Hell's  bells, 
Tom,  you  won't  never  catch  no  fish  if  yuh  go  on  cussin' 
like  that." 

The  following  morning,  while  they  were  soaping  their 
faces  at  the  washbench  outside  the  hotel  kitchen  door, 
two  horsemen  trotted  past,  heading  toward  the  corral. 
Red,  winking  the  soap  from  his  smarting  eyes,  perceived 
with  amazement  that  the  elder  of  the  two  riders  was  Bill 
Derr,  the  younger  Bert  Kinzie,  one  of  the  88  punchers 
whom  his  brother  Tom  had  perforated  while  playing  even 
for  his  —  Red's  —  wounding. 

Red's  gun  and  belt  were  hanging  together  with  Tom's 
on  a  nail  above  the  washbench.  Red  leaped.  As  his  fin 
gers  closed  on  the  friendly  butt,  he  heard  above  the  snap- 


A   Check  287 


ping  crackle  of  frying  bacon  in  the  kitchen  a  smack  and 
a  click  at  his  back.  Lord,  the  other  man  had  beaten  him 
to  it! 

But  no  shot  followed.  Even  as  he  whirled  to  face 
whatever  might  betide,  he  heard  Bill  Derr  saying  quietly : 

"  I  don't  see  no  thin'  to  get  hostyle  for.  I  say  I  don't 
see  nothiri  to  go  on  the  prod  about." 

Red,  his  gun  poised,  saw  that  Bill  Derr,  crowding  his 
horse  against  that  of  his  companion,  held  Bert  Kinzie's 
hand  motionless  on  the  butt  of  his  half -drawn  gun.  Bert 
Kinzie's  sunburnt  face  was  set  and  drawn;  the  lips  curled 
in  a  snarl,  writhing  away  from  the  clenched  teeth,  the 
veins  in  his  neck  swelled  as  he  strove  with  every  atom  of 
strength  in  his  tight-muscled  body  to  free  his  hand  and 
gun. 

Red,  tensely  immobile  as  a  cat  at  a  rat  hole,  waited. 
He  could  afford  to  wait.  He  held  the  other's  life  be 
neath  the  cocked  hammer  of  his  gun. 

"  Now,  now,"  soothed  Bill  Derr  in  a  low  tone,  "  don't 
be  a  fool,  Bert.  Don't  be  a  damfool.  Don't  yuh  hear  me 
sayin'  they  ain't  nothin'  to  get  hostyle  about  ?  " 

"  Do  yuh  want  me  —  "  furiously  began  the  straining 
Kinzie. 

"  I  want  yuh  to  keep  still,"  cut  in  Bill  Derr.  "  Shore, 
I  see  what  you  see  —  see  'em  plain,  both  of  'em.  It's  all 
right,  I  tell  you,  it's  all  right." 

"  But  —  " 

"  Who's  runnin'  this,  Bert?  "  persisted  the  quiet  voice. 
'  You  take  my  word  for  it  that  everything  all  right.  If 
it  ain't,  I'll  be  the  first  one  plugged.  I'm  between  you  an' 
him.  Yo're  sort  o'  behind  me  thataway,  Bert.  Sort  o' 
usin'  me  for  a  breastwork  like.  No  need  to  get  het  now, 
no  need  to  get  het.  That's  the  stuff.  Tuck  yore  artillery 
back  in  camp.  Le's  unsaddle.  Good  idea,  huh?  " 

Bill  Derr,  taking  care  to  keep  his  long  body  between 
his  companion  and  that  companion's  enemies,  pressed  on 


288  Lynch   Lawyers 

to  the  corral  gate.  Red  dropped  his  gun  hand  at  his  side 
and  glanced  askance  at  his  brother.  Tom,  soapy  water 
dripping  from  his  chin,  held  a  towel  in  one  hand  and  a 
six-shooter  in  the  other.  He  turned  a  puzzled  face  to 
ward  Red.  Behind  them  in  the  kitchen  the  breakfast 
bacon  snapped  and  crackled. 

"What's  Bill  drivin'  at?"  muttered  Tom. 

Red  shook  his  head.  Slowly  he  put  away  his  gun. 
Tom  followed  his  example.  Red  proceeded  to  finish  his 
ablutions.  Not  so  Tom  Kane.  The  latter  swiped  the 
towel  once  across  his  wet  features,  slicked  his  hair  flat 
with  the  palm  of  one  hand,  and  put  on  his  hat  and  car 
tridge  belt  without  once  removing  his  narrow-slitted  eyes 
from  the  figures  of  Derr  and  Kinzie. 

It  was  obvious  that  Bill  Derr  was  still  endeavoring  to 
show  Bert  Kinzie  the  error  of  his  ways.  The  latter,  his 
back  eloquent  of  sulkiness,  listened  in  silence. 

A  few  minutes  later  Derr  and  Kinzie,  carrying  their 
saddles,  walked  toward  the  side  door  of  the  hotel.  Kin 
zie  looked  straight  before  him.  Derr's  washed-out  gray 
eyes  glanced  at  Red  and  Tom  standing  at  the  kitchen  door 
and  passed  on  to  view  the  distant  hills. 

"  We'd  oughta  get  a  good  bunch  at  the  Rafter  O," 
Bill  Derr  was  saying  as  he  and  Kinzie  passed  the  brothers. 
"  Startin'  at  nine,  say,  we'd  oughta  reach  there  by  four 
o'clock.  Yeah,  at  nine,"  he  repeated,  as  if  the  silent 
Kinzie  had  asked  a  question.  "  We'll  start  at  nine  on  the 
trail  to  the  Rafter  O." 

The  two  men  went  in  by  the  side  door.  Red  looked  up 
and  down  the  dusty  irregular  stretch  of  ground  between 
the  rear  elevations  of  the  houses  fronting  on  Main  Street 
and  the  straggling  row  of  corrals.  At  the  other  end  of 
town  a  freighter  was  harnessing  his  mule  teams.  Three 
corrals  nearer  a  woman  was  milking  a  nervous  nanny- 
goat.  But  the  freighter  was  too  far  away  to  have  seen 
anything  out  of  the  ordinary,  and  the  milker  was  not  suffi- 


A   Check  289 

ciently  near  to  have  heard  a  word,  and  furthermore  her 
back  was  toward  the  hotel. 

Red  poked  his  head  round  the  jamb  of  the  kitchen  door 
way. 

"  How's  breakfast  comin'  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  conversa 
tional  tone. 

The  sound  of  the  frying  bacon  was  so  loud  that  he  had 
to  raise  his  voice  and  repeat  the  question  before  the  cook 
heard  him. 

"  He  didn't  hear  nothin'  outside,  that's  a  cinch,"  Red  told 
himself.  "  Of  course,  they's  all  them  back  windows,  but 
she's  pretty  early,  an'  anyway  a  gent  would  have  to  see 
an'  hear  both  to  make  anythin'  out  of  it.  Tom,"  he  said 
aloud  to  his  brother,  who  stood  scratching  his  head,  star 
ing  steadfastly  at  the  side  door  of  the  hotel,  "  Tom,  I 
guess  you'n  me  won't  go  see  Friend  Bradley  till  after 
nine  —  some  time  after.  Le's  go  in  an'  eat." 

"  Shore,"  assented  Tom,  and  he  licked  his  lips  and  saw 
to  it  that  the  extra  gun  behind  the  waistband  of  his  trou 
sers  could  be  drawn  easily. 

It  was  an  odd  meal  and  a  most  uncomfortable  one,  that 
breakfast.  Bert  Kinzie  and  Tom  Kane  watched  each 
other  like  weasels.  Red  Kane,  despite  his  faith  in  Bill 
Derr  and  the  latter's  restraining  influence  over  Bert  Kin 
zie,  hardly  tasted  what  he  ate  and  drank. 

The  hasher  wondered  why  four  of  the  guests  manipu 
lated  their  table  cutlery  with  their  left  hands  only.  But 
she  was  newly  come  out  of  the  Corn  Belt  where  the  law 
was  revered  as  a  fetish  even  in  those  days.  The  other 
breakfasters  were  too  busy  gobbling  a*nd  guzzling  to  ob 
serve  aught  that  lay  beyond  the  rims  of  their  finger-thick 
stoneware. 

Bill  Derr  and  Bert  Kinzie  finished  before  Red  and  Tom 
and  kicked  back  their  chairs  and  withdrew  to  the  street. 
Red  piled  his  plate,  saucer  and  cup  with  a  heartsome  feel 
ing  of  relief,  retrieved  his  hat  from  beneath  his  chair  and 


290  Lynch    Lawyers 

twirled  it  upon  the  point  of  a  stiff  forefinger.  The  land 
lord  slouched  in  from  the  kitchen  to  help  the  hasher 
clear  away.  Red  fixed  him  with  a  hard  eye  and 
hummed : 

"  We'll  hang  old  Santa  Anna  soon  — 

Wa-hoo !     Wa-hoo ! 

An'  all  the  Greaser  soldiers  too, 

To  the  tune  o'  Yankee  Doodle  Doo, 

'Way  down  in  Mexico." 

The  landlord  glanced  askance  at  Red  and  brushed 
against  him  as  he  passed.  His  head  gave  a  slight  jerk 
forward.  He  stacked  a  dozen  plates  and  saucers  and 
shuffled  back  to  the  kitchen. 

"  Old  Rough  an'  Ready,  he's  a  trump." 
sang  Red,  swinging  full  stride  into  the  air. 

"Wa-hoo!     Wa-hoo! 
He'll  rub  old  Santa  Anna  out 
An'  drive  the  Greasers  in  a  rout, 
'Way  down  in  Mexico." 

Tom  shoved  back  his  chair.  Red  trod  upon  his  broth 
er's  toe  and  started  toward  the  kitchen.  Tom  followed. 
They  found  the  landlord  awaiting  them  outdoors  by  the 
washbench.  He  grinned  at  them  with  all  the  confidence 
in  the  world.  They  did  not  return  the  grin.  Somehow 
Red  was  reminded  of  a  sleek  cod  head  he  had  once  seen 
in  an  advertisement. 

"  The  cod's  eyes  popped  more,"  remarked  Red  thought 
fully,  solemnly  contemplating  the  landlord. 

"  Huh  ?  "  gawked  the  landlord  uncertainly,  his  grin 
fading. 

"  Nothin',"  was  the  reply.  "  Yuh  wouldn't  under 
stand.  Whadda  yuh  want?" 

"  Did  yuh  ever  see  that  tall  feller  with  the  gray  eyes  be- 


A   Check  291 


fore  ?  "  asked  the  landlord,  looking  a  trifle  dashed.     "  The 
oldest  one  o'  them  two  just  got  in,  I  mean?  " 

"  Now  hownell  do  yuh  expect  me  to  know  all  the  fly-by- 
nights  in  the  country  ?  "  demanded  Red  rudely.  "  I  ain't 
no  cyclophobia." 

"  Yuh  dunno  him  then?  " 

"  Ain't  I  just  said  I  didn't?" 

"  All  right,  all  right,  I  was  only  a-askin'.  No  offense 
meant.  Dunno  what  yuh  gettin'  hot  for.  Brad  Usher 
said  to  me  last  night  —  " 

"  Nemmine  what  he  said,"  interrupted  Red.  "  If  he 
was  talkin'  to  you  last  night,  then  I  guess  you  an'  us  un 
derstand  each  other  without  havin'  to  chat  about  it. 
Whyf or  is  this  tall  feller  worryin'  yuh  ?  " 

"  He  ain't  —  exactly.    But  I  seen  him  before  some'ers." 

"What  o'  that?" 

Red  stared  at  the  landlord.  What  was  going  on  be 
hind  that  mask  of  sleek  and  oily  features?  Was  there 
more  than  a  surface  meaning  to  what  the  man  was  say 
ing?  Had  he  witnessed  the  incident  of  the  early  morn 
ing? 

"  What  o'  that?  "  Red  repeated. 

"  Nothin',  only  I  can't  remember  where  I  seen  him." 

"  An'  what  o'  that  too  ?     You  talk  like  an  old  woman." 

The  landlord,  whose  name  was  Skinner,  wagged  a 
dogged  head. 

"  I  tell  yuh  I  don't  like  it,"  he  insisted.  "  I  seen  that 
feller  some'ers.  I  can't  remember  where  or  how,  but 
I'm  bettin'  he's  a  United  States  Marshal  or  a  detective  or 
somethin'." 

"  How  about  the  other  feller  ?     Is  he  a  detective,  too  ?  " 

"  I  dunno.     I  know  I  never  seen  him  before." 

"If  they're  detectives,  whadda  yuh  think  they're  doin' 
here?  Ain't  Flipup  a  model  Sunday-school  or  what?  " 

"  Yo're  friends  with  Brad  Usher  same  as  I  am,"  was 
the  careful  answer.  "  Flipup  is  Flipup,  an'  we  don't 


292  Lynch   Lawyers 

want  no  sneaks  lally-gaggin'  round  stickin'  in  their  noses 
where  they  ain't  wanted.  An'  —  we  —  ain't  —  gonna 
have  'em." 

"  Tell  yuh  what,"  suggested  Red,  "  s'pose  now  you  just 
slide  up  to  one  o'  them  fellers,  the  tallest  one  for  choice, 
an'  call  him  a  sneak.  I'll  bet  he  wouldn't  do  nothin' 
more'n  take  off  his  hat  to  yuh.  He  might  even  say 
1  Thank  yuh/  You  can't  never  tell.  Take  a  chance,  fel 
ler,  take  a  chance." 

But  the  stocky  landlord  was  not  taking  any  chances  that 
morning.  He  retired  to  the  kitchen  without  another 
word. 

Red  and  Tom,  grinning  from  ear  to  ear  because  they 
did  not  feel  in  the  least  joyful,  went  in  to  get  their 
saddles. 


CHAPTER   TWENTY-NINE 

THE    STAIN 

"  KIND  o'  thought  you'd  take  the  hint  if  I  talked  loud 
enough,"  said  Bill  Derr  checking  his  horse  and  looking 
over  a  cutbank  bordering  the  trail  to  the  Rafter  O. 

"  Yeah,"  smiled  Red,  sitting  his  horse  under  the  cut- 
bank,  "  takin'  hints  is  where  we  live,  Tom  an'  me.  How 
about  yore  friend  Bert  behind  yuh  there  ?  Is  he  —  " 

His  smile  broadened  as  he  left  the  sentence  unfinished. 

Bert  Kinzie  glanced  at  Tom  Kane  where  he  stood  mo 
tionless  at  his  horse's  head. 

"  We-ell,"  began  Bert  hesitatingly,  and  then  stopped  as 
Bill  Derr  hurriedly  cut  in  with :  "  I  told  Bert,  Tom,  just 
as  I'm  a-tellin'  you  now,  that  pursuin'  this  feud  o'  yores 
to  the  bitter  end  is  all  foolishness.  Bert's  got  yore  trade 
mark  on  him  in  two  places,  an'  I  notice  they's  a  scar 
alongside  yore  head  you  didn't  get  shavin'.  She's  a 
standoff  thataway,  an'  both  gents  deserve  great  credit. 
Besides,  fellers  in  the  same  line  o'  business  hadn't  oughta 
quarrel  nohow.  If  they  do,  the  business  bogs  down  quick 
an'  soon;  so  —  " 

"  Same  line  o'  business,"  interrupted  Tom,  his  features 
immobile.  "How  yuh  mean?" 

"  I  got  a  idea  yo're  down  here  after  what  we're  after." 

"Huh?" 

"  The  road  agents." 

'The  road  agents?" 

"  Shore.  The  company  hired  me  to  go  get  'em. 
They's  a  reward  too,  an'  the  88's  offerin'  one  for  their 


Lynch   Lawyers 


money  so  Bert  Kinzie  come  along  to  help  on  that.     Ain't 
you  a-tryin'  to  see  what  you  can  do  on  yore  own  hook  ?  " 

"  We're  always  glad  to  make  an  honest  dollar,"  equivo 
cated  Red  with  a  leer.  "  But  what  have  the  road  agents 
gotta  do  with  Flipup,  Colorado  ?  " 

Before  Bill  Derr  could  reply,  came  the  faint  report  of 
a  rifle,  and  Bert  Kinzie's  horse,  scored  across  the  rump 
by  a  bullet,  jumped  straight  over  the  cutbank.  It  was 
purely  fortuitous  that  Tom  Kane  stood  directly  in  its 
path. 

Tom  leaped  aside,  but  the  horse's  shoulder  caught  him 
in  mid-air  and  knocked  him  spinning.  The  horse  crossed 
its  legs  and  fell.  Bert  Kinzie  shot  over  the  saddle-horn 
and  landed  on  all  fours.  He  scrambled  to  his  feet  just 
in  time  to  seize  his  potential  enemy  by  the  collar  and  drag 
him  beyond  leg-sweep  of  the  stung  and  frantic  animal. 
As  it  was,  a  flying  hind  hoof  whisked  Tom's  hat  from 
his  head. 

Tom  sat  up,  supporting  himself  on  two  shaky  arms, 
and  blinked  at  Bert  Kinzie,  who  had  sprung  back  to  his 
pony,  and  was  dragging  it  to  its  agitated  feet.  Tom 
rubbed  a  slightly  dazed  head  and  looked  from  Bert  Kinzie 
to  those  furiously  kicking  hoofs.  Slowly  he  got  to  his 
feet,  retrieved  his  hat  and  walked  up  to  Bert  Kinzie  and 
tapped  him  on  the  shoulder.  Bert  seized  his  reins  short 
and  turned  to  find  Tom  holding  out  a  most  amicable 
hand. 

•    "  Shake,"  said  Tom.     "  I  don't  cut  down  on  you  no 
more,  an'  you  can  gamble  on  that." 

"  Which  shore  goes  double,"  Bert  declared  instantly, 
and  he  heartily  shook  Tom's  hand. 

"  Set  'em  up  in  the  other  alley!  "  bawled  Red,  who  was 
holding  Tom's  thoroughly  frightened  horse  and  having  a 
time  with  it.  "  Come  an'  get  this  locoed  pinwheel  o' 
yores  before  I  bust  his  jaw  for  him,  will  yuh,  Tom? 
Where's  Bill?" 


The   Stain  295 

Bill  Derr  was  nowhere  in  sight.  He  had  vanished  like 
a  handful  of  smoke  on  a  windy  day.  But  five  minutes 
later  he  appeared  at  the  mouth  of  a  draw  a  hundred 
yards  away  and  waved  them  to  come  to  him. 

"  If  we  slide  down  this  draw,"  said  he,  when  they  loped 
up,  "  we'll  be  out  o'  sight  complete  o'  that  sharpshooter." 

"  Where's  he  shootin'  from?  "  asked  Red,  wheeling  his 
horse.  '  "  That  hill  over  yonder?  " 

"  That  hill,"  replied  Bill  Derr,  leading  the  way  at  a 
gallop.  "  An'  they's  two  of  him." 

"Two!" 

"  Two,  y'bet  yuh.     Didn't  you  hear  the  shootin'  ?  " 

"  Not  after  the  first  shot.  We  was  too  busy  with  that 
fool  hoss  o'  Bert's  to  hear  anythin'." 

"  Well,  they's  two  o'  them  bummers  all  right.  I 
counted  six  puffs  o'  smoke  from  two  different  places 
while  I  was  ridin'  along  the  top  o'  that  cutbank  huntin' 
for  a  low  break,  an'  I'll  bet  I  rode  a  mile  before  I  found 
one." 

"  You  might  'a'  jumped  it.     Bert  did." 

"  If  I'd  had  his  reason,  I  might  'a'." 

Bill  Derr  glanced  at  Bert  and  Tom  where  they  rode 
side  by  side  and  permitted  himself  a  very  slight  smile. 
But  he  made  no  comment.  He  knew  when  to  let  well 
enough  alone. 

"  Ain't  this  draw  leadin'  toward  that  hill?  " 

Red  squinted  up  at  the  sun  to  get  his  direction. 

"  West  of  it,  I  guess,"  answered  Bill  Derr.  "  Maybe, 
if  we  work  round  behind  'em,  we  can  give  'em  a  sur 
prise." 

"  I'm  willin'.  I  guess  now  that  landlord  must  'a'  re 
membered  where  he  met  yuh." 

"Huh?  Whadda  yuh  mean?  That  landlord  party 
wasn't  in  Flipup  when  I  was  here  five  years  ago." 

Red  explained  the  allusion,  and  Bill  Derr  swore. 

"  That's  what  comes  of  bein'  famous,"  said  Red,  his 


296  Lynch   Lawyers 

tongue  in  his  cheek.  "  An'  I  won't  go  there  to  please 
any  long-legged  cow-wrastler,  neither!  You  got  yore 
nerve,  to  come  pryin'  round  after  our  road  agents !  " 

"  Yore  road  agents !  " 

"  Shore,  ours.  We  was  here  first,  wasn't  we?  Find 
ers  keepers.  That's  us." 

"  You  ain't  found  'em  yet,  I  guess." 

"  What  makes  yuh  think  they're  here?  "  Red  abruptly 
switched  to  a  new  angle  of  the  subject. 

"  I  don't  think.     I  know." 

Bill  Derr  winked  at  Red  and  turned  into  a  dry  wash 
that  gave  promise  of  leading  to  the  rear  of  the  bush 
whackers'  hill. 

"  Yuh  know,  huh?  "  gibed  Red.  "  That's  shore  bright 
of  yuh.  Yo're  packin'  so  much  wisdom  these  days  le's 
hear  their  names  an'  all." 

"  That's  tellin'." 

"  Yeah,  yuh  bet  it  is,  old-timer." 

"What  you  two  row-wowin'  about?"  Bert  Kinzie  in 
the  rear  wished  to  know. 

"  Bill  thinks  he  knows  more'n  I  do,"  replied  Red  Kane. 
"  Yonder's  a  real  nice  thick  wood,"  he  added,  looking 
ahead  and  to  the  right,  "  full  o'  real  nice  thick  spruce,  an' 
I  only  wish  they  was  thicker." 

"  We'd  oughta  be  able  to  injun  up  on  them  bushwhack 
ers  now,"  hazarded  Tom,  squinting  at  the  feather-topped 
mass  of  foliage  lifting  above  the  right-hand  bank  of  the 
wash. 

''Here!"  cried  Red  by  way  of  comment  and  turned 
his  horse  at  the  bank. 

Outblown  nostrils  showing  velvet-red,  the  spatting 
quirts  lacing  their  shrinking  bellies,  the  wild-eyed  ponies 
clawed  their  humpbacked  way  up  the  stiffish  slope  and 
scrambled  over  the  top.  They  got  into  their  stride  in 
two  jumps  and  pelted  in  and  out  among  the  spruce  trees 
at  a  smart  burst  of  speed. 


The   Stain  297 

Within  five  minutes  their  riders,  dismounted,  were 
reconnoitering  the  hill  from  the  edge  of  the  wood. 

"  They've  sloped,"  remarked  Red,  eying  the  barebacked 
hill  with  huge  disgust.  "  They've  sloped." 

"  Maybe  they've  gone  over  other  side  of  the  hill,"  sug 
gested  Tom,  not  overlooking  an  opportunity  to  disagree 
with  his  brother.  "  Maybe  yuh  can't  see  where  —  " 

"Aw,  whatsa  matter  with  yuh?"  demanded  Red. 
"  Hill's  smooth  as  a  naked  toad,  'ceptin'  where  them  few 
bushes  is  on  top,  an'  they  ain't  high  enough  to  hide  a 
hoss.  They've  done  gone,  I  tell  yuh." 

"  Yeah,"  corroborated  Bill  Derr,  who  was  standing  up, 
"  they've  slid  out.  Yonder  they  go."  He  pointed  a  lean 
brown  finger  northward.  "  What'd  I  tell  yuh  ? "  he 
added  in  quiet  triumph.  "  I  said  they  was  two." 

The  two  black  specks  slid  up  the  flank  of  a  swell  four 
miles  away  and  vanished  behind  the  crest. 

"  They  must  'a'  been  scared  of  yuh,  Bill,"  Red  observed 
with  a  certain  grimness. 

"  I  guess,"  said  Bill  Derr,  sadly  notching  on  safety  the 
hammer  of  his  Winchester,  "  they  must  'a'  knowed  you 
was  along.  That  red  topknot  o'  yores  is  worse'n  a  white 
horse  —  a  dead  giveaway  wherever  y'are.  Why  don't 
yuh  wear  a  wig?  " 

"  I  would  if  I  was  gettin'  bald  like  some  long-legged 
folks  I  know.  But  alia  same  I  don't  think  they  seen  me'n 
Tom.  No  jokin',  I  don't.  We  was  under  that  cut-bank 
two  hours  before  you'n  Bert  turned  up,  an'  them  fellers 
wasn't  on  that  hill  then,  I'll  gamble  on  that." 

"  Naw,  they  dunno  nothin'  about  us,"  declared  Tom. 

"  An'  they  ain't  gonna  neither,"  supplemented  Red. 
"  Which  way  you'n  Bert  goin'  back  to  Flipup  ?  " 

"The  shortest  way,"  said  Bill  Derr.  "If  it's  that 
landlord  —  " 

"  You'll  keep  yore  trap  shut,"  Red  interrupted  quickly. 
"  This  ain't  no  time  for  rough-housin',  Bill.  Not  by  a 


298  Lynch   Lawyers 


jugful  it  ain't.  Slide  round  cautious  an'  soft  all  same 
moccasin  foot.  That's  all  yo're  gonna  do.  Tom  an' 
me'll  find  out  what's  what." 

"  Lookit  here !  "  exclaimed  Tom,  "  if  I  was  you  fellers, 
I  wouldn't  go  back  to  Flipup.  If  yuh  had  any  sense,  you 
wouldn't." 

"  We  ain't  got  no  sense,"  Bill  Derr  said  shortly;  "  so 
that  lets  us  out." 

"  An'  also  in,"  grinned  Red.  "  Lordy,  I  knowed  you. 
You'd  have  to  go  back  to  Flipup  —  you'd  have  to  tickle 
the  mule's  hind  heels  or  you'd  think  yuh  was  missin' 
somethin'.  'S'no  use  givin'  'em  an  argument,  Tom. 
Bert's  just  as  bad.  When  was  it  yuh  said  yuh  was  here 
before,  Bill?" 

"  Five  year  ago,"  said  Bill  Derr  briefly. 

"Was  Brad  Usher  here  then?  " 

"  I  didn't  see  no  sign  of  him." 

"  Then  he  wasn't  here  —  or  you'd  'a'  seen  signs.  He 
believes  in  signs,  that  feller.  Was  you  yoreself  at  the 
time,  Bill?" 

"  Not  that  trip,"  said  Bill  Derr,  shaking  his  head.  "  I 
done  let  my  beard  grow  out  a  spell." 

"  Then  nobody'd  know  yuh  now.  Yore  own  maw 
wouldn't  behind  a  faceful  o'  whiskers.  I  was  just  won- 
derin'  about  that  landlord  —  Lookit,  maybe  Brad  Usher 
—  Say,  did  yuh  ever  hear  of  him  before?  Not  see  — 
hear?^" 

"  No,  I  didn't.  Whadda  you  know  about  Brad  Usher, 
anyway?  Yo're  always  draggin'  him  in  by  the  tail,  I 
notice.  Why?  What's  he  gotta  do  with  —  why  yo're 
here?" 

"  I  never  said  he  had  nothin'  to  do  with  why  we're 
here,"  Red  denied  hastily.  "  Le's  be  gettin'  along  to 
town.  Yo're  goin'  that  way,  ain't  yuh,  Bill?  Aw  right, 
Tom,  you'n  me  —  " 

"  Wait  a  shake,"  cut  in  the  perplexed  Bill  Derr.    "  Tell 


The   Stain  299 

me  what  yuh've  found  out,  Red,  will  yuh  ?  You  needn't 
shake  the  old  head  at  me,  thataway.  I  know  yuh  know 
somethin'." 

"  Who  ?  Me  ?  Me  know  any  thin'  besides  my  own 
name?  Yo're  crazy  I  Honest  yuh  are.  You'd  oughta 
get  that  brain  of  yores  looked  at  by  a  doc.  It  might  be 
serious ;  yuh  can't  tell.  I  knowed  a  feller  once,  a  lot  like 
you,  too,  face,  features  an'  all,  an'  he  got  to  talkin'  like 
yo're  doin'  now,  an'  pretty  soon  he  was  in  a  rheumatic 
asylum.  You  keep  yore  feet  in  the  stirrups,  Bill,  an'  let 
two  gents  who  know  how  work  this  thing  out.  When  we 
get  the  whole  story,  we'll  tell  yuh  if  yuh'll  promise  to  be 
good  an'  wait  patient.  Lookit  how  nice  an'  easy  Bert  is. 
You  don't  catch  him  losin'  no  tempers." 

"  You  idjit,"  Bill  Derr  laughed  ruefully.  "  You  poor 
benighted  tomfool,  I  hope  you  choke." 

Bill  Derr  and  Bert  Kinzie  were  sitting  on  a  packing- 
box  in  front  of  the  California  Store  when  Red  and  Tom 
rode  down  Main  Street  and  turned  off  to  go  to  the  hotel 
corral.  Bill  Derr  had  his  hat  over  his  eyes.  He  seemed 
to  be  dozing.  Knowing  Bill,  it  would  be  safe  to  say  that 
he  wasn't.  Bert  Kinzie,  engaged  in  wrapping  a  quirt- 
handle  with  rawhide,  slid  but  a  casual,  unrecognizing 
glance  at  the  two  horsemen  as  they  passed.  Even  the 
landlord,  who  was  draped  in  careless  ease  over  a  window- 
sill  of  the  hotel,  could  not  have  said  that  Bert  had  even 
a  nodding  acquaintance  with  the  gentlemen  named  Carey. 

From  the  hotel  corral  Red  and  Tom  went  directly  to 
the  office  of  Bradley  Usher.  Mr.  Usher,  occupied  in 
leafing  through  a  large  ledger,  looked  up  as  the  door  flew 
open. 

"  Si'down,"  was  his  greeting.  "  Be  with  yuh  in  a 
minute." 

But  it  was  three  before  he  spoke  again,  and  then  he 
said,  with  a  sidelong  look: 

"Yo're  late.     Why?" 


300  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  We  come  when  we're  ready,"  was  Red's  snappy  re 
sponse,  "  an'  not  before." 

"  I  see."  Mr.  Usher  blinked  at  the  brothers,  closed  the 
ledger  and  laid  it  on  top  of  the  safe.  "  Still,"  he  contin 
ued,  "  I  wish  you'd  come  sooner.  I  had  a  li'l  job  for 
yuh." 

"  Tough  luck,"  commiserated  Red. 

"  I  had  to  give  the  job  to  some  one  else  —  an'  they 
didn't  succeed." 

"Yeah?" 

The  hair  at  the  back  of  Red's  neck  began  to  lift,  his 
skin  to  prickle.  He  was  like  a  terrier  at  a  rat  hole. 

"  I  don't  giveadam  for  a  man  that  don't  succeed,"  was 
Mr.  Usher's  sententious  declaration.  "  They  ain't  no 
excuse  for  not  succeedin'.  Is  they?  " 

He  shot  out  the  question  like  a  bullet. 

"  Not  from  where  I'm  sittin',"  said  Red. 

Tom  raised  his  hand  to  his  face  to  hide  the  involun 
tary  lifting  of  his  mouth  corners.  This  brother  of  his 
would  jest  in  the  path  of  a  stampede. 

"  Maybe  —  you'll  —  succeed."  Mr.  Usher  rubbed  his 
long  and  shaven  chin,  his  curious  black  gaze  holding  Red's 
eye. 

"  Maybe,"  Red,  staring  steadily  back,  permitted  him 
self  to  say. 

"  Lessee  you  pull  a  gun,"  said  Mr.  Usher. 

Red  stood  up  and  drew.  Tom  wondered  at  his  lack 
of  speed. 

"  Can't  yuh  do  better'n  that?  "  Mr.  Usher's  tone  was 
acid. 

Red  tried  and  bungled  it.  His  front  sight  caught  and 
held. 

" !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Usher.  "  You've  got  plenty  o' 

nerve,  I'll  say  that  for  yuh,  but  yo're  only  average  on 
the  draw.  I'd  an  idee  you  was  faster'n  that.  Oh,  yo're 
all  right  with  a  derringer.  I  know  that.  I  seen  yuh. 


The   Stain  301 

But  it  ain't  always  close  work,  an'  then  a  six-shooter  is 
handiest.     Lessee  what  yore  brother  can  do." 

But  Tom  had  got  the  office,  and  his  performance  was 
no  whit  better  than  Red's. 

Mr.  Usher  spat  his  quid  out  of  the  window  and  took  off 
his  hat.  When  a  fresh  chew  was  revolving  in  the  hinge 
of  his  jaw  and  the  hat  was  again  on  his  head,  he  looked 
up  at  the  ceiling  a  moment. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  dropping  his  chin,  "  I  dunno.  I'd 
oughta  tried  you  boys  on  that  draw  business  last  night. 
No  offense,  gents,  but  you  wouldn't  last  the  wiggle  of  a 
hoss's  ear  with  six-shooters  an'  a  fast  gun-fighter." 

"  We've  been  lucky,"  said  Red  calmly.  "  What  gun- 
fighter  was  you  wantin'  us  to  rub  out?  " 

"  I  didn't  say  nothin'  about  no  gun-fighter  I  wanted  — 
rubbed  out.  I  was  just  say  in'  somethin'.  They's  two 
strangers  come  to  town,  an'  I  want  'em  either  sent  away 
or  settled  here  permanent." 

"  Right  nice  country  to  take  up  a  claim  in,"  asserted 
Red. 

"  She's  all  o'  that,"  Mr.  Usher  laughed  mirthlessly 
(when  he  laughed  he  resembled  more  than  ever  a  horse). 
"  These  strangers  are  the  two  that  drifted  in  this  mornin'. 
One  of  'em,  the  tall,  oldest  one,  is  aimin'  to  ranch  it  next 
to  one  o'  my  ranches.  I  ain't  aimin'  to  have  'em.  Y' 
understand." 

"  Why  down  'em  both,  if  only  one  —  " 
'  The  other  one's  his  friend.  It'll  make  it  easier  to 
have  both  go.  Look  here,  I  ain't  explainin'  my  business 
to  nobody.  I  want  them  parties  removed.  I  don't  care 
how  yuh  do  it.  Neither  of  yuh'd  stand  a  show  with  the 
tall  buck  —  he's  slow  lightnin'  on  the  draw  —  but  they 
can  be  bushwhacked,  an'  not  a  long  distance  bushwhack 
neither.  The  closer  the  better.  Even  if  y 'ain't  much 
with  a  rifle,  yuh  can't  miss  at  twenty  or  thirty  yards." 

"  You  don't  want  no  misses  this  deal,  huh  ?  " 


302  Lynch   Lawyers 

Red  patted  his  knee  and  smoothed  the  leather  of  his 
chaps  with  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

"Misses?"  The  eyebrows  of  the  money-lender  be 
came  a  straight  line.  "  Whadda  yuh  mean  by  '  misses  '  ?" 

"  Well,"  said  Red  smoothly,  "  the  landlord  said  some- 
thin'  to  us  about  suspicionin'  them  two  sports;  so  Tom 
an'  me  made  out  to  trail  'em  this  mornin'.  We  wasn't 
a  million  mile  away  when  a  couple  o'  sharpshooters  — 
an'  they  was  real  sharpshooters  —  cut  down  on  'em  from 
that  hill  about  six  miles  out  on  the  trail  to  the  Rafter  O." 

"  I  see,"  said  Mr.  Usher,  and  he  added  with  great  bit 
terness,  "  I  thought  them  two  chunkers  could  shoot.  

their  souls !  Now  yo're  in  the  saddle.  Whirl  yore  rope." 

"  Guess  we'd  better  have  some  rifle  cartridges  —  couple 
o'  fresh  boxes  .45-90's,"  said  practical  Tom. 

Mr.  Usher  nodded,  unjointed  his  long  body  in  a  pro 
digious  stretch  and  led  the  way  to  the  sleeping  apartment 
in  the  rear  of  the  warehouse.  He  dropped  on  his  knees 
beside  the  bed  and  dragged  from  beneath  it  a  large  open 
wooden  box  half  filled  with  cartons  of  rifle  cartridges. 
He  scooped  up  half  a  dozen  cartons  in  his  two  hands  and 
tossed  the  lot  upon  the  horsehide  covered  desk. 

"  Help  yoreselves,"  he  invited  and  shoved  back  the  box. 

Red  angled  past  the  corner  of  the  desk,  snicked  open  a 
carton  with  his  thumb  nail  and  spilled  the  cartridges  all 
abroad  on  the  horsehide.  While  he  stood  between  the 
desk  and  the  packing-case  washstand  with  its  overshad 
owing  shelf,  stuffing  the  slim,  lead-tipped  brass  cylinders 
into  the  loops  of  his  cartridge  belt,  he  could  not  help  but 
perceive  clearly  that  which  had  previously  escaped  his 
roving  eye  —  to  wit,  a  stain,  a  golden-yellow  stain  that 
streakily  splotched  the  red-chestnut  horsehide  from  where 
it  curled  over  the  desk  edge  to  the  bottom  of  the  skin. 

The  stain,  which  curiously  resembled  the  silhouette  of 
a  great  hand  with  thumb  and  four  long  fingers  outspread, 
caught  and  held  Red's  attention  a  moment  only.  But 


The   Stain  303 

memory  requires  no  more  than  a  moment  —  the  merest 
eyeflash  will  serve  —  to  file  away  sufficient  evidence  to 
stretch  many  a  wicked  neck. 

"  Take  one  of  my  boxes,  Tom,"  said  Red.  "  You 
got  more  loops  than  I  have." 

"  You  gents  want  yore  first  month  in  advance  ?  "  asked 
Mr.  Usher. 

"  We're  willin'  to  wait,"  said  Red  shortly.  "  We  ain't 
spent  all  o'  that  money  we  got  for  our  ranch  yet." 

"  I  see,"  Mr.  Usher  nodded.  "  I  forgot  about  that 
ranch  you  —  sold.  Ain't  you  fellers  kind  o'  trustin'  ?  " 

"How?" 

"  Folks  workin'  for  me  usually  want  their  wages 
ahead." 

'*  Yeah?  Well,  I  guess  maybe  we  ain't  scared  o'  losin' 
nothin'.  Yuh  see,  we  generally  make  out  to  collect  what- 
ever's  owin'  to  us  no  matter  who  owes  us."  Thus  Red 
Kane  with  a  wink  and  a  leer. 

Mr.  Usher  cackled  a  laugh — without  merriment,  as 
was  his  custom. 

''  Yo're  funny,"  he  averred.  "  Both  of  yuh  are  funny. 
Did  yuh  stop  to  think  they's  such  a  thing  as  gettin'  too 
funny?" 

"  No,  we  never  did,"  Red  said  frankly.  "  An'  you'll 
notice,"  he  added  thoughtfully,  "  we're  still  alive." 

'  'Still '  ain't  '  always',"  was  the  sapient  observation  of 
Mr.  Usher. 

"  '  Here  endeth  the  first  lesson/  "  drawled  Red.  "  A 
hymn  comes  next  as  a  rule,  or  will  some  gent  lead  in 
prayer?  " 

His  eyes,  wide,  innocent,  demure,  searched  the  deadly 
glare  of  the  baited  Mr.  Usher.  It  was  manifest  that  the 
money-lender's  patience  was  teetering  on  the  razor-edge 
of  a  break. 

Red  was  ready.  So  was  Tom.  The  former  was  pos 
itive  that  he  could  put  two  derringer  bullets  where  they 


304  Lynch    Lawyers 

would  do  the  most  good  before  Mr.  Usher  could  reach 
under  his  coat.  Tom  pinned  his  faith  to  the  six-shooter 
whose  barrel  nuzzled  his  hipbone. 

Mr.  Usher's  self-control  continued  to  teeter  on  the  edge 
of  a  break,  his  soul  consequently  to  balance  on  the  edge 
of  the  hereafter.  Oh,  very  near  his  death  was  Mr. 
Usher.  The  Great  Reaper  halted  on  his  rounds  and  pre 
pared  to  swing  his  scythe.  Mr.  Usher  smiled.  The 
Great  Reaper  sighed,  shouldered  his  scythe  and  passed  on 
regretfully  —  regretfully,  for  that  it  seemed  to  him  that 
Mr.  Bradley  Usher  had  been  ripe  for  the  harvest  a  long, 
long  time. 

Mr.  Usher's  smile  widened  to  a  cheerless  grin.  With 
difficulty  he  repressed  the  impulse  to  shiver.  Odd  that  he 
should  experience  a  chill  on  a  warm  and  sultry  morning. 

"  Hell,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Usher.  "  I  like  you  two. 
Damfino  why,  but  I  do." 

The  brothers'  steady  gaze  contained  no  warmth.  They 
were  as  pleased  as  if  a  rattlesnake  had  suddenly  become 
affectionate. 

"  Yeah?  "  said  Red  Kane.    "  Don't  strain  yoreself." 

"  I  won't.  Now,  I'm  takin'  a  li'l  trip.  I  may  not  be 
back  for  ten  days  or  a  couple  of  weeks.  If  you  want 
anythin',  money  or  the  like  o'  that,  ask  the  hotel  landlord, 
Skinner.  He'll  be  in  charge  here  while  I'm  away.  An', 
when  I  come  back,  I  hope  they'll  be  a  couple  o'  two- 
legged  calves  the  less  in  Flipup." 

"They'll  be  less  all  right,"  Red  laughed  harshly. 
"  They'll  be  considerable  less.  You  can  stick  a  pin  in 
that." 


CHAPTER   THIRTY 

THE    UNEXPECTED 

"  WE'LL  give  him  two  days'  start,  an'  that's  a-plenty," 
muttered  Red  to  his  brother  as  they  watched  Mr.  Usher 
ease  his  long  body  into  the  stage  in  front  of  the  express 
office. 

"  You  bet,"  was  Tom's  endorsement.  "  Do  we  eat  or 
don't  we?  " 

Heartily  refreshed  by  a  pound  or  two  of  boot-heel  steak, 
greasy  fried  potatoes  and  pints  of  strong  coffee,  they 
repaired  to  the  shady  side  of  the  hotel  for  the  purpose 
of  thoroughly  cleaning  their  firearms. 

The  weapons  did  not  require  more  than  the  flick  of  a 
rag,  but  it  was  needful  to  hold  speech  with  Skinner. 
Red  knew  the  man  would  join  them.  He  did  —  within 
the  hour. 

"Want  some  machine  oil,  gents?"  he  asked  affably, 
standing  before  them,  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"  What  we  got's  good  enough,  thank  yuh  most  to 
death,"  replied  Red,  taking  some  of  the  curse  from  his 
sarcasm  with  a  cheerful  grin.  "  Ain't  you  through  with 
that  rawhide,  Tom?  You'll  wear  out  the  riflin'  if  y'ain't 
careful." 

"  I'll  get  yuh  another  string,"  offered  Skinner,  jingling 
the  coins  in  his  pockets. 

"  Nemmine  no  string,"  said  Red.  "  He's  through  with 
it  now.  I  see,"  he  added  in  a  drawl  as  he  stuck  a  piece 
of  white  paper  in  the  open  breech  of  his  rifle  and  squinted 
down  the  bore,  "  I  see  yore  memory's  improved," 


306  Lynch   Lawyers 

Skinner  leaned  against  the  wall  and  tried  to  look  wise. 
"  Meanin'  how?  "  he  queried. 

"  How  ?  Why  —  That  riflin'  ain't  pitted,  is  it  ?  Naw, 
it's  oil,  thassall.  Lordy,  I  thought  for  once  I  was  out  o' 
luck.  Meanin'  —  Huh  ?  What  was  that  you  said,  Mis 
ter?" 

"  I  said  meanin'  how?  " 

"  How  ?  Oh,  yeah,  yore  memory,  shore.  Thassit. 
Ain't  a  feller's  memory  a  odd  number?  Yuh'll  forget 
an  forget,  an'  then  all  of  a  sudden  yuh'll  remember  every- 
thin'  plain  as  the  brand  on  a  hoss." 

"  Plainer'n  some  brands,"  hinted  Skinner  with  a  fat 
uous  wink. 

"  You  keep  away  from  that  corral,"  directed  Red 
gravely.  "  You  might  strain  yore  eyes  lookin'  too  close 
at  —  things." 

"  I  expect.  But  —  maybe  I  didn't  look  at  —  things. 
Maybe  somebody  told  me." 

"  Which  is  all  a  heap  possible  —  a  heap  possible.  But 
we  was  talkin'  o'  memories,  wasn't  we?  My  memory's 
sort  o'  like  yores  was,  'cause  I  can't  remember  straight 
through  yet.  I  got  the  start  of  it." 

He  began  to  hum  "  John  Peel  "  in  slow  time  and  try 
with  a  knife-blade  the  screwheads  in  his  rifle-butt. 

"  Start  o'  what?"  prompted  the  inquisitive  Skinner. 

"  O'  what?  Oh,  yeah,  I  mean  I'm  beginnin'  —  we're 
beginnin'  —  to  get  the  notion  we  seen  that  long  feller 
some'ers,  too.  We  ain't  neither  of  us  shore  —  yet." 

"  Long  feller." 

Skinner  endeavored  to  exchange  his  wise  expression 
for  one  of  penetrating  sharpness. 

"  Shore  —  our  friend,  yores  an'  mine.  The  one  who 
was  shot  at  this  mornin'.  Two  hundred  yards'  range  an' 
couldn't  nick  him.  Ragged  work,  ragged  work." 

"  It  was  half  a  mile,"  corrected  Skinner.  "  If  they'd 
gone  where  I  told  'em  to  —  " 


The   Unexpected  307 

He  spat  disgustedly. 

"  Then  you  wasn't  in  the  li'l  party,"  drawled  Red,  vig 
orously  rubbing  the  rag  over  his  magazine  and  barrel. 

"  I  was  not."  Thus  Skinner  with  great  vehemence. 
"  If  I'd  been  there,  they  wouldn't  'a'  come  back  to  dinner, 
neither  of  'em.  Will  they  be  here  for  supper,  I  wonder?  " 

"  Maybe;  then  again,  maybe  not.  Yuh  can't  never  tell 
in  this  country.  But  you  can  put  down  a  bet  yuh  won't 
need  to  board  'em  always." 

"  I  guess  not,"  nodded  Skinner. 

"Where  was  it  you  seen  that  feller?"  inquired  Red, 
ceasing  to  beat  about  the  bush. 

"  Up  in  Slingtown  once.  He  was  trailin'  a  rustler.  He 
got  him." 

"  Association  detective  like  you  said,  huh?  " 

"  He  was  off  an'  on  —  whenever  any  big  job  come  on 
anyway." 

"  I'm  rememberin'  a  li'l  better.  When  Tom  an'  me 
knowed  him,  seems  to  me  he  worked  for  the  Gov'ment. 
How  about  it,  Tom?  " 

"  Yep,"  grunted  Tom.     "  You  hit  it." 

"  Maybe  he's  workin'  for  them  now,"  suggested  Red. 

"  Nah,"  denied  Skinner.  "  He's  after  —  "  The  land 
lord  caught  himself.  "  What  was  his  name  when  you 
knowed  him  ?  "  he  continued  in  an  altered  tone. 

"  I  didn't  know  him.  Never  think  it,  an'  I  can't  re 
member  his  name  neither.  But  you  do." 

"  Shore." 

"  What  was  it?  Lordy,  man  —  "  as  the  landlord  still 
hesitated  —  "ain't  we  all  li'l  friends  together?  What 
yuh  hangin'  back  in  the  breechin'  for?  " 

"  I  dunno  how  much  you  know,"  was  the  cryptic  reply. 

:<  You  can  take  it  we  know  all  we  need  to  know,"  said 
Red  severely.  "  Lookit,  Skinner,  wasn't  his  name  Dur 
ham,  or  somethin'  ?  " 

"  His  name's  Derr,  Bill  Derr,"  shortly. 


308  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  Well,  if  he's  after  Brad  Usher,"  drawled  Red,  look 
ing  at  the  landlord  from  beneath  his  eyebrows,  "  whyfor 
did  he  let  Brad  slide  off  in  the  stage?  " 

"  He  ain't  after  Brad,"  promptly  denied  Skinner. 
"  What  makes  yuh  think  that  ?  Say,  you  want  too  much 
information,  you  do." 

"  Lookit,  feller,"  said  Red,  his  drawl  drawlier  than 
ever,  "  if  I'm  a-doin'  anythin'  you  don't  like,  why  —  I'm 
here  an'  yo're  here.  What's  fairer  than  that?  " 

"  I  didn't  mean  nothin',"  grumbled  the  landlord,  "  but 
—  but  I  ain't  got  no  orders  to  talk." 

The  landlord  wrapped  himself  in  his  tattered  dignity 
and  withdrew  round  the  corner  of  the  house.  Soon  they 
heard  him  wrangling  with  the  cook. 

"  Skinner  knows,  bless  his  honest  li'l  heart,"  whispered 
Red  out  of  one  corner  of  his  mouth.  "  But  they's  no 
gettin'  anythin'  out  o'  Skinner  now.  Maybe  later  —  " 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence.     It  wasn't  necessary. 

Red  and  his  brother  spent  the  remainder  of  the  after 
noon  in  guncleaning  and  saddlery-overhaul.  Two  or 
three  times  they  were  conscious  of  Skinner  peering  at 
them  from  neighboring  points  of  vantage.  From  five 
o'clock  till  supper  time,  Skinner,  seated  across  the  street, 
kept  them  under  close  observation.  Derr  and  Kinzie  were 
loafing  in  front  of  the  hotel  and  were  included  in  the 
scope  of  Mr.  Skinner's  vision.  It  was  obvious  that  Skin 
ner  had  something  on  his  mind. 

After  supper,  when  dusk  was  merging  with  night,  Red 
missed  his  pocket  knife.  Believing  he  had  left  it  in  the 
dining  room,  he  re-entered  the  hotel.  It  was  pitch  dark 
in  the  dining  room.  Standing  in  the  doorway,  he  struck 
a  match.  At  first  his  dazzled  eyes  did  not  perceive  that 
the  room  had  an  occupant.  Then,  as  he  cupped  a  pro 
tecting  hand  round  the  match  and  advanced  toward  the 
table,  he  saw  the  landlord  across  the  room.  Skinner 
stood  in  front  of  one  of  the  windows  and  faced  him  si- 


The   Unexpected  309 

lently.     Skinner's  legs  were  spread  wide,  his  arms  were 
akimbo.     He  looked  annoyed. 

"  I  don't  see  what  yuh  hadda  come  bustin'  in  thisaway 
for,"  he  grumbled. 

"  Why  for  not?"  countered  the  mildly  surprised  Red. 
"  What's  it  to  you,  I'd  like  —  Say,  is  that  a  rifle  stickin' 
across  the  window-sill?" 

He  saw  that  it  was  a  rifle  just  as  the  match  went  out. 
He  did  not  scratch  another.  One  hand  on  the  butt  of  his 
six-shooter,  he  slid  round  the  table  and  approached  the 
silhouette  blotting  the  gray  rectangle  of  the  window. 

"  What's  the  game?"  he  demanded  in  a  whisper. 
"  What  is  this,  anyway  ?  " 

"  Whadda  yuh  s'pose?"  was  the  husky  rejoinder. 
"  You  got  yore  orders,  an'  I  got  mine." 

Red  was  beside  Skinner.  He  looked  past  him  through 
the  window.  There,  not  forty  feet  distant,  standing  on 
the  sidewalk  in  the  full  glare  of  the  light  from  a  saloon 
window,  was  Bert  Kinzie. 

"  I'd  'a'  got  him  if  you  hadn't  come  ringin'  in  an  lit 
matches  all  over  the  place,"  complained  Skinner.  "  Now 
he's  gonna  move.  Told  yuh  so." 

"  That  feller  was  one  half  of  our  job,"  whispered  Red. 
"  What  you  gotta  horn  in  for?  " 

"  I  got  my  orders.  I  know  what  I'm  doin'.  All  you 
need  to  know  is  yore  job  would  'a'  been  half  done  if  you'd 
stayed  out  o'  this  dinin'  room." 

:'  Yeah?  "  drawled  Red,  holding  his  rapidly  rising  tem 
per  with  both  hands  and  sitting  down  upon  it  hard. 
"  Yeah?  Brad  Usher  don't  leave  nothin'  to  chance,  does 
he?" 

"  He  don't." 

"  I  should  say  not.  They's  nothin'  like  goin'  the  whole 
hawg  while  yo're  at  it.  But  don't  fret,  old-timer,  we're 
plenty  able  to  do  our  job  up  proper,  an'  they  ain't  no  need 
for  you  to  risk  yore  valuable  life  a-bushwhackin'  folks 


3 1  o  Lynch   Lawyers 

promiscuous.  As  I  was  sayin',  Skinner,  we  need  a  li'l 
advance,  Tom  an'  me.  How  about  it  ?  " 

"  As  you  was  sayin' !  Y'ain't  said  nothin'  about  it  be 
fore.  What  yuh  come  in  here  for,  huh  ?  " 

"  I  come  in  to  look  for  my  knife,  which  same  has 
hopped  out  o'  my  pants  pocket.  But  nemmine  the  knife. 
Don't  worry  none  about  it.  I'd  just  as  soon  have  the 
money." 

"  I  s'pose  you  would.  How  much  do  yuh  want  ? 
Don't  be  too  proud.  I  only  got  about  forty-three  wheels 
in  the  till." 

"  Lordy,  man,  what  good  is  chicken-feed  to  us  ?  We 
need  eighty  apiece." 

"Eighty  apiece!" 

"Gotta  have  it!  So  yuh  might's  well  shut  up.  If 
you  ain't  got  a  hundred'n  sixty  in  the  till,  Brad  Usher's 
got  it  in  his  safe,  an'  don't  try  to  tell  me  different.  We'll 
go  with  yuh,  Tom  an'  me,  while  yuh  get  it.  He's  out  in 
the  street  some'ers.  We'll  pick  him  up  on  the  way. 
Croon!" 

Five  minutes  later  Skinner,  kneeling  in  front  of  the 
safe  in  Mr.  Usher's  office  and  working  the  combination, 
heard  a  most  unchancy  sound  at  his  back.  Which  sound 
was  caused  by  the  sliding  home  of  the  huge  bolt  on  the 
door.  Skinner's  fingers  froze  to  the  dial.  He  was  suffi 
ciently  experienced  not  to  turn  round. 

"  Go'n,"  ordered  Red. 

"  Don't  stop,"  supplemented  Tom.  "  Never  mind  us 
a-tall." 

"Don't  start  to  yell  neither,"  amplified  Red.  "I'm 
sayin'  *  start ',  y'understand,  'cause  you  won't  never  finish 
that  yell  —  leastways  not  in  this  world." 

Skinner  sagged  back  on  his  heels. 

"  I  forget  the  combination,"  he  said  sullenly. 

"  Yo're  a  liar,"  declared  Red.  "  Don't 'contradict  me. 
Yo're  a  liar  by  the  clock.  I  can  see  it  in  the  back  o'  yore 


The   Unexpected  311 

head.  Tom,  I  do  believe  we  gotta  be  rough  with  this 
jigger." 

"  'Sa  shame,"  said  Tom. 

"  She  is,  you  bet.  While  yo're  figgerin'  out  what  hap 
pens  to  liars,  Skinner,  s'pose  you  tell  us  somethin'.  Why 
is  Bill  Derr  here  in  Flipup?  " 

Mr.  Skinner  clamped  his  plump  jaws. 

"  Tom,"  continued  Red  in  his  gentlest  tone,  "  would 
you  mind  seein'  if  them  shutters  is  good  an'  tight  —  no 
cracks  in  'em  anywheres?  While  yo're  doin'  that,  I'll 
collect  the  six-shooter  in  Skinner's  hip-pocket  That's 
shore  one  bad  place  to  pack  a  gun,  feller.  Unhandy, 
yeah.  Just  stay  right  where  y'are,  Skinner.  I  know. 
You  was  thinkin'  of  movin'  the  lamp,  wasn't  yuh?  I'll 
move  it  for  yuh,  see,  where  yuh  won't  be  able  to  reach  it 
before  I  can  reach  you." 

Red  laughed  at  his  own  pleasantry.  So  did  not  Skin 
ner.  He  drew  his  wretched  brows  together.  What 
might  portend,  he  could  not  guess.  But  there  was  a  most 
sinister  threat  in  Red's  calm  manner.  And  he,  Skinner, 
had  walked  into  the  trap  with  eyes  wide  open.  That  was 
what  galled. 

"  Who  is  Bill  Derr  after?  "  pursued  Red. 

"  I  ain't  none  shore,"  equivocated  Skinner. 

"  Now  that's  tough,"  mourned  Red,  his  right  hand 
flicking  out  like  the  head  of  a  striking  snake.  Smack! 
Skinner  promptly  smote  the  floor  with  cheek  bone,  nose 
and  shoulder.  He  sat  up  and  fingered  a  tingling  ear. 

"  You  see,"  Red  said  brightly,  "  I  only  used  the  heel  o' 
my  hand  on  yuh.  If  I  ever  hit  you  right,  yore  second 
cousins  will  feel  the  shock.  You  lousy  pup,"  he  went  on, 
mindful  of  the  wrongs  suffered  by  the  Lentons  at  the 
hands  of  Usher  and  his  adherents,  "  you'd  oughta  be 
lynched,  an'  I  guess  you  will  be.  Whadda  you  think? 
Ain't  sayin'  nothin',  huh  ?  Tha's  bad.  Tom,  you  got  the 
sharpest  skinnin'-knife.  Lend  her  to  me  a  shake." 


312  Lynch   Lawyers 

At  which  dismal  words  Skinner's  dishonest  heart 
skipped  several  beats. 

"  He's  gotta  be  gagged  first,"  said  Tom. 

"  Shore.  He'll  yell  his  head  off  if  he  ain't.  Use  his 
own  bandana,  I  would." 

At  Tom's  approach  Skinner  braced  back  against  the 
safe  and  flung  out  protesting  hands. 

"  Gents,  gents,"  he  cried,  "  what  yuh  gonna  do  to  me?  " 

"  Hog-tie  yuh,  gag  yuh,  lay  yuh  out  on  the  floor,"  was 
Red's  reply.  "  When  yo're  all  so  flat  and  fancy,  I'm 
gonna  take  this  skinnin'-knife  — "  Red  held  up  the 
long-bladed  weapon  and  turned  it  slowly  in  the  rays  of 
the  lamp  —  "  an'  stick  the  point  under  yore  finger  nails, 
one  finger  nail  at  a  time,  y'understand,  an'  a  li'l  bit  at 
a  time.  Djever  run  a  splinter  under  yore  finger  nail, 
Skinner?  " 

"If  yo're  thinkin'  of  yellin'  for  help,"  nipped  in  Tom 
quickly,  reading  a  half-formed  purpose  on  Skinner's  face, 
"  remember  what  my  brother  said  about  yore  yellin'.  I'm 
sayin'  the  same.  We  always  agree.  You'd  be  surprised 
how  agreeable  him  an'  me  always  are." 

"  Yuh  —  yuh  wouldn't  torture  me,  gents!  "  wailed  the 
properly  horrified  Skinner. 

"  No,  we  wouldn't.  We  wouldn't  think  o'  such  a  thing. 
Only  Injuns  torture  folks.  We're  white.  So  we're  only 
arguin'  with  an'  persuadin'  of  you,  Mr.  Skinner.  See  the 
difference?" 

Skinner's  complexion  was  turned  a  blotchy  saffron-yel 
low.  His  eyes,  ever  slightly  protuberant,  were  fairly 
popping  with  the  fear  that  oppressed  his  soul. 

"How  about  it,  feller?  Hog-tie  or  squeak?"  de 
manded  Tom,  his  hands  on  the  knot  of  Skinner's  neck 
erchief. 

"  What  yuh  wanna  know?  "     Sullenly  resigned.. 

"  Ain't  Bill  Derr  down  here  after  the  murderer  of 
Dick  Lenton  ?  "  snapped  out  Red,  who  had  from  the  very 


The   Unexpected  313 

beginning  clearly  perceived  how  he  could  make  capital 
out  of  Derr's  arrival. 

"I  —  guess  —  maybe."    Uncertainly. 

"  You  know  it,"  drove  home  Red.  "  Brad  Usher  told 
yuh." 

Skinner's  frightened  eyes  admitted  as  much. 

"  Who  is  the  killer  ?  "  prompted  Tom  Kane. 

Came  a  knocking  at  the  door,  and  Skinner's  tongue  at 
once  stuck  to  his  teeth. 

"  Skinner,"  whispered  Red,  "  Tom's  gonna  open  the 
door.  Whoever  comes  in,  you  talk  to  'em  like  nothin' 
had  happened.  I'll  set  right  here  with  my  left  hand  be 
hind  the  wing  o'  my  chaps.  They'll  be  a  derringer  in  my 
hand,  Skinner,  a  li'l  oY  derringer  with  two  barrels. 
Count  'em,  two,  so  yuh  see  I  ain't  deceivin'  yuh.  Don't 
give  no  warnin's,  Skinner.  No  winks,  nods  or  nothin', 
an'  don't  try  to  leave  the  room.  Si'down  on  the  table 
there  an'  swing  yore  feet  like  yuh  hadn't  nothin'  on  yore 
mind  but  yore  hair.  Thassit.  Sit  up,  you  hunk  o'  fat! 
Git  some  backbone  in  yore  spine." 

Tom  drew  the  long  bolt,  turned  the  knob  and  opened 
the  door.  Entered  then,  walking  with  feline  grace  on 
the  balls  of  his  small  feet,  Mr.  Hollister. 

"  Howdy,"  said  Red,  not  failing  to  observe  that  there 
was  more  than  a  dash  of  the  furtive  in  Mr.  Hollister's 
manner. 

"  Evenin',"  returned  Hollister,  staring  unblinkingly  at 
Red. 

The  latter,  secure  in  the  knowledge  that  several  weeks' 
growth  of  whiskers  obscured  the  features  of  himself  and 
brother,  nodded  pleasantly. 

"  Take  a  chair,"  he  suggested.  "  Make  yoreself  at 
home." 

"  I  always  do,"  was  the  flip  acceptance.  "  Where's 
Brad,  Skinner?" 

"  Takin'  a  trip,"  Red  answered  for  Skinner. 


314  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  I  was  speakin'  to  Skinner."  Thus  Hollister,  rebuk- 
ingly. 

"  They's  no  law  against  that  as  I  know  of.  Hop  to 
it." 

"  What  yuh  boltin'  the  door  for?  "  Hollister  demanded, 
turning  to  Tom. 

"  We  ain't  exactly  anxious  for  visitors." 

Hollister's  wide  mouth  stretched  into  a  smile.  It 
might  be  said  that  he  beamed. 

"  Why  didn't  yuh  say  so  at  first  ?  "  he  asked.  "  How'd 
I  know  you  was  all  right?  " 

He  perched  himself  on  the  extreme  edge  of  a  chair, 
pushed  back  his  hat,  pulled  a  blue  silk  handkerchief  from 
the  breast  pocket  of  his  flannel  shirt  and  mopped  his  hot 
forehead. 

"  Yuh  dropped  somethin',"  said  Red,  for,  coincident 
with  the  drawing  out  of  the  handkerchief  a  small,  hard 
object  had  shot  across  the. intervening  space  and  plunked 
down  on  his  lap. 

He  picked  up  that  which  had  fallen  and  tossed  it  back 
to  Hollister,  but  not  before  his  eyes  had  glimpsed  it  fairly. 
It  Avas  the  wood-carving  of  an  Indian  girl's  head,  almost 
a  replica  of  the  head  Bill  Derr  carried  as  a  pocket  piece  — 
a  smaller  edition  of  the  one  beside  the  letter  file  on  the 
desk  of  Mr.  Usher. 

"  That's  one  clever  li'l  carvin',"  was  Red's  comment. 
"Djuh  do  it  yoreself?" 

"  No,"  Hollister  denied  carelessly,  dropping  the  head 
into  a  vest  pocket.  "  I  ain't  so  handy  with  a  knife." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Red  softly.  "  Is  yore  hair  really 
yaller?" 

Hollister,  despite  the  menace  he  read  in  the  other's 
tone,  did  not  snatch  at  his  gun.  For  a  ring  of  cold  metal 
was  resting  cosily  against  the  back  of  his  neck.  Tom 
Kane  had  come  alive. 

"  Yuh  see,"  drawled  Red,  "  I  had  a  look  at  you  once  in 


The   Unexpected  315 


Farewell,  an'  yore  hair  was  right  yaller.  To-night,  even 
by  the  light  of  the  lamp,  she's  sort  o'  black  at  the  roots. 
Brad  Usher's  got  some  stuff  in  a  bottle  that  turns  a  red- 
chestnut  hide  yaller.  Might  it  turn  black  hair  yaller, 
huh?  An',  workin'  on  from  that,  might  you  be  comin' 
here  to-night  for  a  bottle  o'  that  stuff  ?  I  wonder,  feller, 
I  wonder." 

"  What  yuh  ravin'  about?  "  snarled  Hollister.  "  Yo're 
crazy  —  crazy  as  bats !  Whatsa  matter  with  yuh  ? 
What  yuh  holdin'  me  up  thisaway  for?  " 

"  For  luck,"  Red  replied  placidly.  "  Might  yore  name 
be  John  Hudson,  by  any  chance  ?  " 

"  It  might  —  only  it  ain't." 

"Ain't  it?  We'll  see.  Keep  yore  paws  up!  Tom's 
only  takin'  yore  gun  away,  thassall.  Yo're  shore  yore 
name  ain't  John  Hudson,  feller?  Aw  right,  no  call  to 
get  het.  If  you  ain't  John  Hudson,  they  ain't  a  knife- 
scar  on  yore  right  arm  half-way  between  yore  shoulder 
an'  yore  elbow.  Tom,  would  you  mind  rollin'  up  the 
gent's  sleeve?  " 

On  the  instant  Hollister  ducked  and  halfwheeled.  In 
the  neighborhood  of  his  beltbuckle  a  derringer  crashed 
and  spat  with  a  burst  of  orange  flame.  Burning  powder- 
grains  dotted  Red's  forehead  and  a  hot  breath  singed  his 
skin.  Red's  hammer  clicked  even  as  Tom  smashed  Hol 
lister  across  the  head  with  the  barrel  of  his  gun. 

Hollister  bent  backward  and  dropped  in  a  heap.  He 
lay  without  motion,  a  thin  trickle  of  blood  staining  the 
floor  boards  beneath  his  head. 

"  Misfire,"  said  Red  calmly,  snapping  open  his  der 
ringer.  "  First  I  ever  had." 

"  Lucky  she  wasn't  yore  last." 

"Is  that  so?  Yo're  a  fine  side-kicker,  you  are! 
Yo're  supposed  to  take  away  his  artillery,  an'  he  hides 
out  a  derringer  on  yuh  an'  fills  my  face  full  o'  powder  an' 
misses  my  nose  by  the  thickness  of  a  thin  dime.  An'  all 


3  1 6  Lynch   Lawyers 

you  gotta  say  is,  '  Yo're  lucky.'  '  Yo're  lucky,'  huh? 
Say  —  " 

"  Aw,  you  ain't  hurt,  you  bellerin'  calf !  What's  a  li'l 
scorchin'?  You  make  me  sick.  I  can't  always  remem 
ber  everythin'  —  Where's  Skinner  ?  Say,  where  is  he  ? 
Who's  a  fine  partner  now?  I'm  askin'  yuh,  who  is? 
You  was  supposed  to  look  after  Skinner,  wasn't  yuh? 
An'  didja?  Didja?  Yuh  did  not!  He  slides  out  from 
under  yore  eyes  like  yuh  was  blind.  First  that  Art 
Teller,  an'  now  Skinner !  " 

The  smarting  Red  slipped  in  another  cartridge  and 
dashed  into  the  pitch-blackness  of  the  warehouse.  He 
had  not  taken  six  steps  when  he  tripped  on  a  case  of 
canned  tomatoes  and  fell  head-first  into  a  collection  of 
buckboard  and  wagon  wheels.  He  scrambled  to  his  feet 
with  a  barked  shin  and  skinned  features  and  had  the  ex 
treme  dissatisfaction  of  hearing  the  door  at  the  other  end 
of  the  warehouse  creak  open  and  slam  shut.  Mr.  Skin 
ner  had  made  good  his  departure. 

Red  returned  to  the  office.  His  brother  was  kneeling 
beside  the  prostrate  and  still  senseless  Hollister.  The  lat- 
ter's  right  sleeve  was  rolled  up  almost  to  the  shoulder 
seam. 

"  Don't  tell  me  he  got  away  on  yuh !  "  Tom  sneered 
savagely.  "  What  didja  hit  with  yore  face  —  the  floor? 
An'  yuh  needn't  explain  ^neither  if  yuh  gotta  yell  thisa- 
way.  I  ain't  deef.  Lookit  this  jigger's  arm.  They's 
that  scar." 

Red  explored  the  pockets  of  Hollister's  vest.  From 
the  second  pocket  he  drew  an  expensive  hunting-case  gold 
watch.  Red  clicked  open  the  case.  On  the  reverse  side 
were  several  lines  of  engraving  setting  forth  that  the  in 
habitants  of  Piegan  City  presented  the  watch  to  the  Gov 
ernor  of  the  Territory  as  a  token  of  their  affection  and 
esteem. 

"  Which  this  sort  o'   tangles   Hollister  in  the   road- 


The   Unexpected  317 

agent  business,"  nodded  Red,  dangling  the  watch.  "  I 
wish  he'd  'a'  waited  another  minute  before  knockin',"  he 
added  dolefully.  "  Skinner  was  just  gonna  gimme  the 
name  o'  that  murderer." 

"  They's  no  use  chasin'  Skinner  now,"  declared  Tom, 
"  an'  yuh  might  as  well  go  tell  Bill  Derr  we  got  one  of 
his  road  agents." 

"  I  guess  I  might,"  said  Red  heavily.  "  Stick  Hoi- 
lister's  Injun  head  in  yore  pocket  an'  get  the  other  off 
Usher's  desk  while  I'm  gone,  will  yuh,  Tom?  " 

"  I  dunno  when  I  been  so  pleasantly  surprised  in  all  my 
life,"  said  Bill  Derr,  looking  down  at  the  now  gagged  and 
glaring  prisoner.  "  You'd  oughta  stuck  to  yore  rustlin', 
John.  Playin'  two  hands  to  once  ain't  poker.  Red,  are 
you  shore  nobody  heard  that  derringer?  " 

"If  they  did,  they  didn't  come  a-hornin'  in  to  find  out. 
Why?" 

"  'Cause  I  wanna  get  this  Hollister-Hudson  out  o'  this. 
He  ain't  all  we're  lookin'  for,  but  he's  somethin',  an' 
whatsa  sense  o'  waitin'  three-four  weeks  for  extradition 
papers  when  she's  only  thirty  miles  to  the  State  line  ?  " 

"  Which  that's  the  brightest  thought  you  ever  had," 
said  Red.  "  You'll  need  an  extra  hoss.  They's  my  black 
all  ready  a-waitin'.  You  an'  Bert  stick  here,  Bill,  while 
me'n  Tom  do  the  needful.  They's  no  sense  in  either  of 
yuh  fussin'  round  the  corral  or  the  hotel  either.  War- 
bags  in  yore  room,  yuh  ?  Aw  right,  we'll  get  'em.  Take 
yore  hands  out  o'  yore  pockets.  She  ain't  necessary  to 
pay  the  landlord.  Because  why?  'Cause  in  the  first 
place  I  caught  him  tryin'  to  bushwhack  Bert  here  with  a 
.45-90  about  a  half-hour  ago,  an'  in  the  second  place  he's 
done  sloped  an'  ain't  here  no  more." 

"  You  caught  him  tryin'  to  bushwhack  me !  "  repeated 
the  startled  Bert. 

"  From  a  side  window  o'  the  hotel  dinin'  room.     So 


318  Lynch   Lawyers 

whatsa  use  o'  botherin'  with  a  man  like  that?  Aw,  s'all 
right  Bert,  s'all  right.  No  trouble  a-tall  to  curry  a  li'l 
short  hoss  like  that.  C'mon,  Tom." 

"  Where  do  you  guess  Skinner'll  go  ?"  asked  Tom,  when 
he  and  his  brother  were  pulling  off  their  boots  in  their 
room  that  night. 

"  Maybe  he'll  go  after  Usher;  maybe  he'll  go  visitin' 
friends  or  take  a  trip  to  Yurrup.  They  say  that's  a 
great  country  —  kings  an'  queens  an'  all  like  that." 

"  S'pose  now  he  hooks  up  with  Rum  Durkin  an'  Spunk 
Lenn  ?  She's  more'n  likely  they're  out  in  the  hills  some- 
'ers  waitin'  for  friend  Hollister  —  or  maybe  they're  in 
town  this  minute.  I  never  thought  o'  that." 

Tom  reached  again  for  his  boots. 

"  Clam  down,  ol'  squinchmore,  clam  down,"  advised 
Red,  stretching  out  his  legs  and  wriggling  his  toes.  "  I 
ain't  gonna  do  no  more  kitin'  round  to-night,  an'  you  ain't 
neither.  Call  it  a  day,  for  Gawd's  sake,  call  it  a  day !  " 

From  the  boots  Tom's  hand  came  away  reluctantly. 

"  Well  — "  he  began,  then  changed  direction  with, 
"  Listen  here,  cowboy,  would  yuh  really  'a'  stuck  the 
point  o'  that  skinnin'-knife  under  his  finger  nails?" 

"Would  you?" 

"  I  dunno."     Business  of  doubtful  head-scratching. 

"  Neither  do  I.  Quit  yawpin'  fool  questions  an' 
lemme  go  to  sleep,  will  yuh  ?  " 


CHAPTER   THIRTY-ONE 

THE   DUST    CLOUD 

IN  the  morning  Red  and  Tom  went  to  breakfast  as 
though  nothing  untoward  had  occurred.  The  hasher 
when  she  served  them  and  the  cook  glancing  in  did  not 
bend  upon  them  the  darkling  eye  of  suspicion. 

But  it  seemed  to  them,  when  they  left  the  hotel  to  walk 
abroad,  that  Mr.  Dick  Stratton,  a  hundred  yards  down 
the  street,  dodged  round  a  corner  rather  swiftly. 

Red  and  Tom  promptly  followed  the  example  set. 
Then,  being  wide  between  the  eyes,  they  separated. 

Mr.  Dick  Stratton,  crouching  with  malice  aforethought 
and  a  gun  in  his  hand  behind  a  spare  wagon  box  stored  in 
an  open  space  between  a  corral  and  an  empty  house,  heard 
an  apologetic  cough  in  his  rear.  Mr.  Stratton  turned  a 
slow  head.  Twenty  yards  away  Red  Kane  stood  star 
ing  at  him.  Red's  gun  was  out.  He  was  smiling.  Mr. 
Stratton  discerned  no  sweetness  in  the  smile. 

"  Have  you  lost  somethin'  ?  "  queried  Red. 

"  Lost  somethin'  ?  "  repeated  Dick  Stratton,  his  eyes 
venomous.  "  What  makes  you  think  I've  lost  anythin'  ?" 

"  'Cause  you  look  just  like  a  gent  who's  a-huntin'  for 
somethin'  a  heap  anxious  —  a  heap  anxious." 

Dick  Stratton  was  consumed  with  hate  at  Red's  drawl, 
but  he  said  never  a  word.  He  might  have  been  a  man 
of  stone,  so  still  he  held  his  muscles. 

"  Maybe  my  brother  Tom  can  help  yuh  —  in  what 
yo're  doin',"  suggested  Red.  "  He's  yonder  on  yore 
right." 


320  Lynch    Lawyers 

Dick  Stratton  did  not  turn  his  head.  He  continued  to 
regard  Red  unblinkingly  with  his  cold  and  fishy  eyes. 
But  an  observer,  looking  closely,  might  have  seen  upon 
his  forehead  small  and  starting  dots  of  moisture. 

"  Scrape  your  foot,  Tom,"  said  Red.  "  He  don't  be 
lieve  me." 

Tom  scraped  his  foot.     Dick  Stratton  batted  his  eyes. 

"If  yo're  thinkin'  o'  raisin'  that  gun,"  Red  remarked 
conversationally,  "  I'd  think  a  li'l  longer.  Yeah,  I  would 
so.  Say,  Stratton,  what  was  you  doin'  over  on  the  trail 
to  the  Rafter  O  yes'day?  " 

This  last  at  a  venture. 

"  Huh  ?  "  frowned  Dick  Stratton. 

"  You  an'  that  friend  o'  yores,  I'd  oughta  said,"  Red 
galloped  on,  "  'cause  they  was  two  o'  yuh.  What  did 
yuh  cut  down  on  us  for  anyway?  We  hadn't  done  yuh 
no  harm." 

Red's  tone  was  high  and  whining,  but  Mr.  Stratton 
was  not  deceived.  He  was  a  gambler  and  as  such  accus 
tomed  to  taking  chances,  but  he  was  beginning  to  find 
the  morning  chilly. 

"  What  did  yuh  do  it  for?  "  persisted  Red.  "  A  half 
inch  lower  an'  you'd  'a'  bust  my  hoss's  back." 

"  Why,  yore  hoss  wasn't  hit,"  denied  Mr.  Stratton, 
surprised  out  of  his  cautious  silence. 

"  So  you  looked,  didja  ? "  drawled  Red,  his  smile 
broadening  as  his  eyes  narrowed.  "  Then  you  was  up 
on  that  hill.  Who  was  with  yuh?  Is  he  layin'  for  us 
too  behind  a  doorway  or  somethin'  ?  " 

It  may  have  been  that  Mr.  Stratton  thought  he  saw  a 
movement  of  Red's  gun  hand.  It  may  have  been  that 
he  merely  wished  to  terminate  the  conversation  in  the 
most  effective  manner.  At  any  rate  he  went  into  sharp 
action  at  the  tail  of  Red's  words.  Even  as  his  body 
jerked  to  one  side,  his  six-shooter  twinkled  out  and  up 
and  spat  a  dart  of  flame  once  and  once  only.  For  Red's 


The   Dust   Cloud  321 

gun  had  beaten  the  barrier  by  a  shade  and  driven  an 
accurate  bit  of  lead  through  and  through  the  gambler's 
shoulder. 

Nevertheless  Dick  Stratton  did  not  wilt.  Despite  the 
burning  pain  in  his  right  shoulder  that  made  his  head 
swim,  his  left  hand  groped  toward  the  fallen  gun. 

But  Red's  boot-toe  reached  the  weapon  first  and  kicked 
it  three  yards  away. 

" ,"  muttered  Mr.  Stratton,  and  he  sat  up  and  held 

his  wounded  shoulder  while  the  blood  ran  through  his 
fingers. 

"  Here  comes  the  other  one,"  said  Red,  as  pelting  feet 
thudded  on  the  sidewalk  beyond  the  corral. 

A  gentleman  carrying  a  double-barreled  shotgun  skid 
ded  round  the  corner  of  the  corral.  At  sight  of  Red  and 
Tom  and  their  extreme  readiness  for  battle  he  halted, 
dropped  the  shotgun  and  tossed  his  hands  up  all  in  one 
motion. 

The  gentleman  was  a  total  stranger  to  the  brothers, 
but  he  had  a  guileful  eye.  Red  ordered  him  to  advance, 
and  he  continued  to  hold  him  up  with  alert  care  while 
Tom  searched  him  for  offensive  arms. 

From  saloons  and  stores  and  residences  came  the  inhab 
itants  of  Flipup,  both  male  and  female,  and  looked  on 
from  a  distance.  Mr.  Stratton  continued  to  drip  redly 
through  his  fingers. 

"  I'm  bleedin'  to  death,"  he  complained. 

"  No  such  luck,"  contradicted  the  unfeeling  Red. 
"  We'll  attend  to  yore  case  when  we  get  through  with 
yore  friend  here." 

"  Ain't  my  friend,"  grunted  the  suffering  Stratton. 

"  He'd  like  to  be  then,"  grinned  Red.  "  He's  been 
winkin'  at  yuh  steady  for  the  last  minute.  I  wonder 
does  he  know  Skinner.  Feller,  do  you  know  Skinner  ?  " 

The  gentleman  with  the  guileful  eye  shook  his  h<;ad 
promptly. 


322  Lynch   Lawyers 


"  Never  heard  of  him  in  my  life,"  he  denied.  "  I'm  a 
stranger  here." 

'  You'll  keep  right  on  bein'  one,  too,  'cause  yo're  leavin' 
us  now." 

"  What's  the  row?  "  A  well-known  voice,  a  bustle  in 
the  crowd.  The  marshal  and  his  bulbous  nose  had  ar 
rived. 

"  Row,"  repeated  Red,  without  removing  his  gaze  from 
the  gentleman  of  the  guileful  eye,  "  I  don't  see  no  row. 
Tom,  gent  wants  a  row.  You  seen  any?  " 

"  I  don't  even  see  the  beginnin's  of  one,"  Tom  replied 
significantly,  looking  hard  at  the  marshal. 

The  marshal  returned  the  stare  with  difficulty.  He 
had  long  since  realized  the  caliber  of  the  brothers.  He 
wished  most  fervently  for  the  heartening  presence  of 
Bradley  Usher.  He  would  know  how  to  settle  in  jig- 
time  the  shooting  of  Stratton.  The  marshal's  shifting 
gaze  signaled  his  indecision. 

"  Look  here,  Marshal,"  burst  forth  the  man  with  the 
guileful  eye,  "  ain't  yuh  got  nothin'  to  say  in  this  town 
a-tall  no  more?  This  jigger  with  the  gun  says  I  gotta 
leave  town." 

"  Don't  yuh  think  he'd  better,  Marshal  ?  "  asked  Red 
softly.  "  It'll  save  trouble  if  you  sort  o'  string  yore  chips 
with  mine." 

The  emphasis  on  the  word  "  trouble  "  had  been  ever  so 
slight,  but  the  marshal's  sense  of  hearing  was  acute.  Yet 
he  hesitated. 

Bang!  Red's  six-shooter  crashed.  The  gentleman 
with  the  guileful  eye  jumped  two  feet  in  the  air  and 
clapped  a  hand  to  an  agonized  ear,  the  tip  of  which  was 
missing. 

"Stick  them  hands  up!"  bawled  Red.  "  You  ain't 
lost  nothin'  to  speak  of  o'  that  ear.  You  got  all  the  rest 
to  hear  with.  One  an'  a  fraction  is  good  enough  for  a 
white  man,  let  alone  a  hoss-thief  like  yoreself.  How 


The   Dust   Cloud  323 

about  it,  Marshal?  Ain't  Flipup  better  off  without  this 
sharp?" 

"  You  bet  she  is,"  declared  the  officer,  whom  Red's 
unexpected  shot  —  even  as  Red  had  intended  —  had 
brought  to  see  the  light.  "  I'll  see  he  leaves  town  myself." 

"  I'll  help  you  see,"  said  Red  dryly  and  faced  about  his 
captive. 

"  I'd  like  my  shotgun  an'  that  six-shooter  the  other 
feller  took  off  me,"  protested  the  prisoner,  hanging  back 
in  the  breeching. 

"  You  can  keep  right  on  likin'.  They  ain't  no  law 
against  it.  Git  a-goin'." 

The  captive  got.  A  gun  muzzle  jammed  with  great 
force  into  one's  lumbar  region  is  a  potent  persuader. 

Together  Red  and  the  marshal  escorted  the  gentleman 
with  the  guileful  eye  to  the  hitching-rail  in  front  of  the 
Pansy  saloon. 

"  I'll  be  back,"  snarled  the  fellow,  swinging  up. 

"  Be  shore  I  ain't  here  when  you  come,"  Red  advised 
pleasantly.  "  You  got  one  minute  to  get  out  o'  range." 

Somewhat  to  Red's  regret  the  stranger  beat  out  the 
sixty  seconds  by  a  safe  margin. 

Red  turned  to  the  marshal. 

"Who  was  that  feller?"  he  queried. 

"Don't  yuh  know  him?"  said  the  marshal,  elevating 
surprised  eyebrows.  "  That's  Bill  Doran.  He's  Brad 
Usher's  foreman  out  at  the  Empire." 

"The  Empire  Mine?" 

"  Shore." 

"  Then  he  ain't  exactly  a  stranger  in  Flipup,  is  he?  " 

"  Not  much  he  ain't.     Why?" 

"  I  was  just  wonderin',  just  wonderin'.  Say,  he's 
turned  to  the  left  where  the  trail  forks.  Is  that  the 
Empire  trail  ?  —  Yeah  ?  Plain  trail  alia  way,  huh  ?  Ain't 
Nature  wonderful  ?  " 

"  But  what's  Brad  Usher  gonna  say  about  it  all  ?  " 


324  Lynch   Lawyers 


worried  the  marshal,  heeding  not  Red's  nonsense.     "  His 
men  ain't  never  quarreled  among  themselves  before." 

"  Djever  stop  to  think  we  maybe  had  our  orders? 
They's  such  a  thing  as  Usher  gettin'  tired  of  part  of  his 
help.  I  ain't  tellin'  all  I  know,  but  you  can  put  down  a 
bet  shootin'  Stratton  an'  runnin'  out  Doran  was  a  heap 
the  proper  caper." 

"  So  that's  how  it  is."  The  marshal  drew  a  relieved 
breath.  "  I  guessed  that  might  be  the  way  of  it.  I  won 
der  what  them  two  done  to  get  Brad  on  the  prod." 

'  You'll  have  to  ask  Brad,  or  maybe  Skinner'd  know." 

Red  was  watching  the  marshal  closely  when  he  men 
tioned  the  landlord's  name.  The  officer's  expression  did 
not  alter. 

"Yeah,"  he  said  without  interest.  "We  better  be 
gettin'  back." 

"  Shore,"  assented  Red,  beginning  to  think  that  the 
marshal  knew  nothing  of  the  difficulty  of  the  previous 
evening.  "  Stratton  oughta  be  fixed  up." 

"  I  s'pose  I'll  have  to  see  he's  took  care  of  till  he's  able 
to  travel,"  grumbled  the  marshal.  "  I  don't  see  why 
Brad- 

"  They  ain't  no  use  fussin'  about  Brad,"  Red  cut  him 
short  sharply.  "  He  does  things  the  way  he  likes  an' 
has  'em  done  similar.  You  don't  see  Skinner  round  town 
anywhere,  do  yuh  ?  " 

"  Skinner.     Yuh  don't  mean  — " 

"  I  mean  Skinner's  left  town,  an'  I  don't  think  he'll  be 
back  right  away." 

The  marshal  stopped  short  in  his  tracks  and  stared 
helplessly  at  Red  Kane. 

"  Why,  Skinner  was  about  as  close  to  Brad  as  his 
skin." 

"  He  ain't  no  more." 

Red  could  not  repress  a  smile.  It  was  pleasant  to  be 
absolutely  sure  that  Skinner  had  not  talked  with  the  mar- 


The   Dust   Cloud  325 

shal  before  leaving  town.  Which  being  so,  it  was  doubt 
ful  whether  he  had  unbosomed  himself  to  any  one  save 
Stratton  and  the  Empire  Mine  foreman. 

"  I  wouldn't  'a'  believed  it,"  muttered  the  marshal,  half 
to  himself.  "  Skinner!  Who'd  'a'  thought  it!  Huh?  " 

"  Nothin'.    C'mon.    Mustn't  let  Stratton  go  too  long." 

But  they  found  on  reaching  the  scene  of  the  shooting 
that  Stratton  had  been  bandaged  and  removed  to  the 
shack  he  shared  with  the  bartender  of  Rouse's  Rest.  He 
was  reported  by  a  friend  to  be  resting  easily. 

"  Tha's  good,"  said  Red.  "  You  needn't  pick  that  up," 
he  added  coldly  as  the  friend  stooped  to  retrieve  Strat- 
ton's  six-shooter. 

The  friend  snatched  away  his  fingers  as  if  the  metal 
had  been  white-hot.  Red  scooped  up  the  six-shooter  and 
weighed  it  in  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

"  I  always  like  to  keep  my  souvenirs,"  he  told  the 
embarrassed  friend.  "  You  might  tell  Stratton  that." 

"I  —  uh  —  I  will,"  stuttered  the  friend  and  went 
elsewhere  hastily. 

The  marshal,  who  knew  the  friend  to  be  weaker  than 
himself,  smiled  openly,  but  Red's  countenance  remained 
unmoved.  He  nodded  to  the  marshal  and  crossed  to 
where  Tom,  Doran's  shotgun  in  the  crook  of  his  arm, 
was  leaning  against  the  posts  of  the  corral. 

"Le's  get  our  hosses,  Tom,"  said  he  in  a  low  voice, 
"  an'  take  a  li'l  ride." 

"Where?" 

tf  To  return  that  shotgun.  It  belongs  to  the  foreman 
o'  the  Empire  Mine." 

"  Now  yo're  whistlin',"  said  the  thoroughly  delighted 
Tom. 

Together  they  went  to  the  hotel  corral.  The  marshal 
watched  them  depart  and  gnav/ed  his  under-lip  the  while. 

"  I  wonder  what  is  up,"  he  asked  himself.  "  Skinner! 
Who'd  'a'  thought  it?" 


326  Lynch    Lawyers 

Bill  Doran  was  leaning  over  the  kitchen  table  bathing 
his  afflicted  ear  and  swearing.  So  engrossed  was  he  in 
his  immediate  affairs  that  he  did  not  observe  a  shadow 
that  passed  the  window,  a  shadow  that  stopped  at  the 
doorway  and  fell  athwart  the  kitchen  floor. 

Something  brushed  Bill  Doran's  shoulder  and  clattered 
down  upon  the  table  with  a  force  that  made  the  basin 
dance.  Which  something  was  a  double-barreled  shot 
gun. 

Bill  Doran  at  the  touch  and  crash  jumped  and  whirled 
like  a  bee-stung  horse  and  made  a  futile  movement  with 
his  hand. 

"  No  use  reachin'  at  that  empty  holster,"  remarked 
Red,  stepping  into  the  kitchen.  "  We  still  got  yore  gun. 
You  fellers  are  shore  a  fine  lot  to  go  after  anybody. 
Yo're  as  bad  as  Stratton.  Don't  you  ever  look  behind 
yuh?" 

Bill  Doran,  backing  away,  butted  into  the  wall. 

"  The  doorway  into  the  other  room  is  four  feet  to 
yore  left,"  drawled  Red,  "  if  that's  what  yo're  lookin' 
for.  Nemmine  it  now.  Yo're  all  right  where  y'are. 
Lookit,  feller,  howja  get  hold  o'  the  shotgun  that  killed 
Dick  Lenton?" 

At  this  there  was  a  sudden  thud  and  a  pad-pad  of  bare 
feet  in  the  next  room.  Red,  leaving  Tom  to  guard  Bill 
Doran,  jumped  through  the  doorway  in  time  to  see  the 
volatile  Mr.  Skinner  in  singlet  and  shirt  escaping  through 
the  window.  Red  hurled  himself  after  and  was  lucky 
enough  to  grab  an  ankle.  Red  followed  his  prey  into 
the  outer  air  and  was  kicked  in  the  eye  by  a  calloused 
heel.  Together  he  and  Skinner  rolled  among  discarded 
cans  and  empty  bottles  and  clawed  and  tore  and  smote 
till  Red  drove  a  knee  into  Skinner's  stomach.  Instantly 
the  latter  went  limp.  Red  arose  minus  a  section  of  shirt 
and  dragged  the  gasping  Skinner  by  the  left  leg  into  the 
house. 


The   Dust  Cloud  327 

When  Skinner  could  talk  he  addressed  himself  to  Bill 
Doran. 

"  Why  didn't  yuh  tell  me  they  was  comin'  ?  "  he  de 
manded  bitterly. 

"  Why  didn't  yuh  come  to  life  when  I  asked  yuh  to 
tie  up  my  ear?"  returned  Bill  Doran.  "  If  yuh'd  done 
that  instead  o'  sleepin'  away  like  a  prize  hawg,  this 
wouldn't  'a'  happened.  You'd  'a'  heard  'em  comin'. 
Howja  think  I  can  hear  anythin'  with  one  ear  full  o' 
blood?  I  never  could  hear  so  awful  good  out  o'  the 
other,  an'  you  know  it.  You  make  me  sick!  If  these 
two  id  jits  with  the  guns  wasn't  so  rambunctious,  I'd  shore 
make  you  hard  to  find." 

"  Yah-h !  "  sneered  Skinner  with  a  malevolent  grin. 

"  I  got  three  men  workin'  here,"  went  on  Bill  Doran, 
transferring  his  attention  to  the  brothers.  "  They'll  —  " 

"  I  seen  'em,"  Red  interrupted  placidly.  "  Old  fellers 
they  was,  the  three.  Besides,  they're  in  the  tunnel.  We 
seen  'em  go  in  before  we  come  out  in  the  open.  Don't  fret 
about  them  doin'  nothin'.  They  won't.  Nemmine  edgin' 
any  closer  to  Skinner,  Bill.  'Tain't  polite  to  go  nudgin' 
folks  yuh  dunno,  an'  yuh  told  me  yoreself  less'n  a  half 
hour  ago  yuh  didn't  know  Skinner.  Thassall  right.  I 
don't  wonder  yuh  was  ashamed  to  admit  yuh  knowed  him. 
Be  ashamed  myself,  an'  Gawd  knows  I  ain't  partic'lar. 
Skinner,  stop  squinchin'  yore  feet  an'  look  at  me.  We 
was  interrupted  last  time  we  met,  an'  you  went  away 
without  sayin'  so  long.  S'pose  now  yuh  go  on  from 
where  yuh  left  off." 

"  Interruptions  are  becomin'  a  habit,"  grunted  Skin 
ner.  "  We're  gonna  be  again." 

At  the  same  instant  Red  heard  the  approaching  horse 
and  went  to  the  door.  Along  the  Flipup  trail  raced  a 
rider.  The  horse  he  did  not  recognize.  Thirty  seconds 
later  Red  saw  that  the  rider  was  Bert  Kinzie.  The  latter 
dashed  up,  jerked  his  horse  to  a  rearing  halt,  and  cried: 


328  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  They're  after  yuh !    Git  a-goin' !  " 

"  Who's  after  us?  "  demanded  Red. 

"  Most  o'  Flipup.  Nemmine  askin'  questions.  Yuh 
ain't  got  time.  Tell  yuh  about  it  later.  Git  a-goin'." 

Red  Kane  sprang  back  indoors. 

"  C'mon,  you  fellers !  "  he  shouted  to  Bill  Doran  and 
Skinner.  "  Get  out  to  the  corral !  Pick  up  yore  saddles 
an' bridles  first!  Quick!" 

"  Whatcha  want  them  for  ?  "  asked  Bert  Kinzie  in 
astonishment  as  Red  and  Tom  herded  their  captives  to 
the  corral. 

"  Do  you  know  any  shortcut  out  o'  this  country?  " 

"  Shore  not  —  only  the  trails." 

"  Me  too.  But  these  fellers  live  here.  They  know  the 
way  the  canons  run.  They'll  show  us  the  way  out.  Git 
along,  you  two.  Stand  there  by  the  woodpile." 

From  their  position  at  the  woodpile  the  prisoners  could 
not  see  the  trail  to  town  and  the  distant  dust-cloud  that 
hung  above  it. 

Red  knocked  free  the  yard-long  lever  of  the  wire- 
fastened  gate  and  ran  in  to  rope  two  of  the  three  horses 
standing  in  hipshot  drowsiness  in  a  shady  corner.  To 
his  disgust  he  discovered  that  two  of  the  horses  were 
lame  —  one  in  the  off  shoulder,  the  other  in  the  near 
fore.  Red  returned  to  the  gate  swearing  and  dragging 
the  third  animal.  Bill  Doran's  mouth  lifted  at  one 
corner. 

"  I  thought  I  was  out  o'  luck  when  I  lamed  that  gray 
comin'  home  this  mornin',"  he  said  with  a  chuckle. 
"  Now  yuh  can  only  take  one  of  us." 

"  Just  for  that,"  drawled  Red,  bridling  the  gray,  look 
ing  from  beneath  his  eyebrows  at  the  face  of  Skinner, 
"  just  for  that  we're  gonna  take  you,  Doran.  Aw  right, 
Tom?" 

Tom,  who  had  been  passing  the  cinchstraps,  leaped 
back  to  his  own  horse. 


The   Dust   Cloud  329 

"  Git  aboard,  Skinner,"  Red  ordered  sharply. 

"Me?  I  thought  you  was  gonna  take  Bill!"  A 
grievous  horror  was  in  Skinner's  face  and  tone. 

"  I  changed  my  mind  when  I  seen  how  yore  face 
changed  from  sad  to  happy  when  I  told  Doran  I'd  take 
him.  Don't  pull  that  rope  too  tight,  Tom.  He's  gotta 
breathe.  Git  aboard." 

The  cold,  hard  muzzle,  of  Tom's  six-shooter  jabbed 
Skinner  in  the  short  ribs.  He  stuck  his  bare  toes  in  the 
stirrup  and  swung  up  with  a  wail  of  — 

"  For  Gawd's  sake,  gents,  lemme  put  on  my  pants !  " 

Red  ran  to  the  house  while  Bert  Kinzie  and  Tom  Kane 
fidgeted  in  their  saddles  with  impatience.  They,  too, 
had  seen  the  distant  dust-cloud.  Every  second  brought 
it  nearer. 

Within  a  half  minute  Red  returned  on  the  run,  a  shape 
less  bundle  under  his  arm  and  a  merry  glint  in  his 
eye.  Under  the  circumstances  the  glint  seemed  out  of 
place. 

"  Where's  my  hat?  "  demanded  Skinner. 

"  You  don't  need  no  hat,"  replied  Red,  mounting  with 
difficulty  by  reason  of  the  bundle.  "  Let's  go,  Skinner. 
You'n  me'll  lead  the  way." 

"  Them  ain't  my  pants !  "  cried  Skinner,  eying  the 
bundle. 

"  Ain't  they  ?  That's  tough.  Skinner,  if  we're  caught 
by  that  posse,  you  won't  never  need  to  make  a  fuss  about 
pants  again.  An',  if  you  gamble  with  us  by  fallin'  off, 
just  remember  they's  only  twenty  feet  o'  slack  between 
the  loop  o'  rope  round  yore  neck  and  Tom's  saddlehorn. 
Now  you  get  us  to  the  line  the  shortest  way.  How  about 
it,  Skinner?" 

"  Straight  for  that  canon,"  directed  the  sulky  Skinner. 

Red  waved  an  ironic  farewell  to  Bill  Doran. 

"  So  long,"  he  shouted.  "  I'll  ask  Skinner  about  that 
shotgun." 


330  Lynch   Lawyers 

The  four  horsemen,  well  bunched,  whirled  past  the 
end  of  the  corral.  Skinner  rapped  out  a  hearty  oath. 

"  Yeah,"  called  Red  above  the  thudding  beat  of  the 
flying  horseshoes,  "  that  cloud  o'  dust  ain't  more'n  two 
miles  away,  but  it  ain't  gonna  do  you  a  bit  o'  good.  Naw- 
sir." 

"  Gimme  them  clo'es,"  demanded  Skinner. 

"  Yo're  talkin'  foolish,"  said  Red,  tying  the  bundle  to 
his  saddle-strings.  "  Them  clo'es  stay  with  me  till  we're 
across  the  line." 

Skinner  proved  a  clever  guide.  It  was  down  this 
canon  and  up  that,  follow  a  creek-bed  for  a  mile  or  two, 
then  across  and  up  the  rocks  of  a  slide  where  a  single 
stumble  would  have  written  finis  for  the  stumbler, 
through  woods  of  pine  and  cedar  where  the  wind 
soughed  mournfully  and  no  birds  sang,  across  sun 
drenched  boggy  meadows  grown  up  in  rank,  high  grass 
that  brushed  the  riders'  knees,  over  bare  ridges  and 
through  dry  wastes  they  rode  without  a  halt,  to  the 
pain  and  anguish  of  Skinner,  who  called  upon  his 
gods  to  witness  that  he  was  becoming  more  saddle-sore 
by  the  minute,  till  they  came  at  last  to  the  creek  that 
marked  the  boundary  line  between  the  State  and  the 
Territory. 

They  threshed  across  in  a  swirl  of  eddies  and  pushed 
on  a  good  five  miles  before  stopping  to  make  camp. 

"  Ol'  Skinner  ain't  such  a  hell-devil  after  all,"  said  Red, 
sliding  to  the  ground  and  stretching  his  legs.  "  We 
didn't  see  a  sight  o'  them  fellers  once,  an'  Bill  Doran 
musta  told  'em  which  way  we  went.  We're  obliged  to 
yuh,  Skinner." 

"  I'll  be  obliged  if  yuh'll  take  off  this  rope  an'  gimme 
them  clo'es,"  grumbled  Skinner. 

"  Why,  shore,"  assented  Red  cheerfully.  "  Tom,  will 
yuh  take  off  the  gent's  halter?  " 

Skinner    dismounted   and   proceeded    immediately   to 


The   Dust   Cloud  331 

finger  with  the  utmost  tenderness  various  parts  of  his 
anatomy. 

"  I'm  raw  like  a  skinned  cow,"  he  complained.  '  They 
ain't  no  skin  left  inside  my  knees,  an'  my  shoulders  is  all 
sunburned  to  hellengone." 

"  That's  shore  tough,"  sympathized  Red.  "  Here's 
yore  clo'es." 

He  tossed  to  Skinner  what  appeared  to  be  an  ancient 
checked  calico  wrapper  and  a  sunbonnet.  Appearances 
were  not  deceptive.  They  were  a  calico  wrapper  and  a 
sunbonnet.  Skinner  spread  them  out  upon  the  ground 
and  stared  at  them  in  anguish  and  dismay. 

"  My  pants !  "  he  moaned.  "  Wasn't  they  no  pants  in 
that  bundle?" 

"  Nary  a  pant,"  Red  shook  his  head. 

"  They  was  my  blue  flannel  shirt  on  the  outside 
a-wrappin'  these  here  up,"  insisted  Skinner.  "  I  seen 
it." 

"  Shore  they  was  a  shirt.     Here  she  is." 

Cursing  under  his  breath,  Skinner  ducked  his  head  into 
the  tail  of  the  shirt  and  pulled  it  on. 

"  I  don't  see  why  yuh  didn't  get  my  clo'es,"  he  fretted. 
"  They  was  hangin'  right  in  plain  sight  on  the  chair  by 
my  bunk,  an'  that  fool  wrapper  an'  sunbonnet  is  the  other 
suit  o'  Bill  Doran's  breed  cook,  which  she's  went  to  town 
for  the  day,  an'  they  was  hangin'  in  the  kitchen  behind 
the  stove.  You  got  my  shirt  all  right.  Why  —  " 

"  Maybe  I  wanted  to  see  how  you'd  look  in  woman's 
clo'es,"  interrupted  Red  without  a  trace  of  a  smile. 

"  I  won't  put  'em  on,"  gurgled  Skinner. 

"  That's  all  right  too.  Ride  in  yore  shirt-tail  for  all 
I  care.  But  that  wrapper  an'  sunbonnet  is  all  the  clo'es 
yo're  gonna  get  for  awhile,  an'  you  can  stick  a  pin  in 
that." 

"  Ain't  yuh  gonna  turn  me  loose  now  ?  " 

"  Not  now not  by  a  jugful  we  ain't.    We  like  yore 


332  Lynch   Lawyers 

company,  Skinner,  an'  we  aim  to  keep  yuh  for  a  spell 
where  we  can  look  at  yuh." 

The  wretched  Skinner  dropped  his  eyes  to  the  wrap 
per  and  the  sunbonnet.  Then,  swiftly  stooping,  he  rolled 
the  two  together  into  a  compact  bundle  and  sat  down 
upon  it  with  a  gusty  groan. 


CHAPTER    THIRTY-TWO 

A    PLEASANT    EVENING 

AFTER  supper  they  lashed  Skinner  hand  and  foot  an 
fore  and  aft  between  two  trees  and  withdrew  to  a  dis 
tance.     All  this  at  the  instance  of  Bert  Kinzie  who  had 
whispered  to  Red  during  the  ride  from  the  Empire  that 
what  he  had  to  say  was  not  for  the  ears  of  Skinner. 

"  They's  a  warrant  out  for  yuh,"  Bert  Kinzie  said  with 
out  preliminary. 

"  Both  of  us?  "  Red  cocked  an  expectant  eyebrow. 

"  Both  of  yuh." 

Tom  swore  frankly. 

"  There,"  he  snarled,  turning  on  his  brother,  "  I  told 
yuh  so!" 

"  Shut  up.     Le's  hear  the  rest  of  it." 

Red  nodded  to  Bert  Kinzie. 

"  She's  thisaway,"  said  the  puncher.  "  Last  night, 
when  we  got  Hudson  safe  across  the  line  to  Sparksburg, 
we  bedded  him  down  in  the  jug  an'  went  to  the  hotel  our 
selves.  She's  kind  o'  late,  but  the  barkeep  says  another 
gent's  gettin'  grub,  an'  we  can  eat.  The  other  gent  turns 
out  to  be  Kansas  Casey.  First  thing  he  asks  us  have  we 
seen  you  two.  I  kicks  Bill  under  the  table  to  keep  his 
trap  shut,  an'  I  told  Kansas  we  ain't,  'cause  they's  a  look 
in  Casey's  eye  I  don't  like. 

"  We  get  to  talkin'  an'  she  all  comes  out  fine  as  f  rawg's 
hair  in  August.  They's  warrants  out  against  both  of  yuh 
—  Red  for  bustin'  into  the  jail  an'  unhobblin'  Lenton, 
an'  Tom  for  helpin'  Red  an'  arson." 


334  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  Arson !  "  Tom  repeated  blankly.  "  Who's  he  —  this 
Arson?" 

"  Arson  ain't  a  feller,  she's  only  law  language  for 
burnin'  up  anythin'.  They  seem  to  think  Tom  set  fire 
to  his  barn  so's  to  keep  folks  away  from  the  calaboose." 

"The  id  jits!"  exclaimed  Red,  irritated  to  learn  that 
Farewell  was  capable  of  coordinated  thought.  "  The 
idjits!" 

"  That's  what  I  told  Kansas,"  said  Bert  Kinzie,  look 
ing  steadily  at  Red,  "  but  he's  sort  o'  got  the  notion  you 
two  gents  are  in  Flipup." 

"  I  wonder  why." 

"  He  seems  to  think  you'd  do  anythin'  to  clear  Lenton 
of  that  murder  charge,  an'  Flipup  is  shore  the  likeliest 
place  to  begin." 

"  Yeah."  Red  scratched  his  chin.  "  Ain't  he  the  li'l 
hellion?  "  he  muttered. 

"  'Course,  he  couldn't  take  yuh  back  with  him,  but  he 
didn't  figger  on  no  trouble  about  havin'  yuh  held  till  he 
could  extradite  yuh.  He  wasn't  feelin'  none  too  good 
at  havin'  to  arrest  yuh,  I'll  say  that  for  him.  But  yuh 
know  Kansas.  The  silver  star  means  a  lot  to  him. 
Well,  when  I  heard  all  I  needed  to  know,  I  borrowed  a 
fresh  hoss  an'  slid  out  early  in  the  mornin'  on  the  back 
trail,  an'  I  guess  Kansas  musta  suspicioned  somethin' 
'cause  he  drifts  out,  too,  an'  I  seen  him  a-humpin'  after 
me  maybe  a  couple  o'  miles  back.  I  got  fieldglasses,  and 
I  could  tell  it's  him.  You  better  believe  I  rode.  I  outrun 
him  to  Flipup  all  right,  but  I  lost  one  lot  of  time  before  I 
found  out  which  trail  yuh  took  out  o'  town.  Lucky  they 
wasn't  nobody  else  takin'  that  trail  or  I'd  a  lost  yore 
tracks  at  the  fork.  My  Gawd,  I  was  in  a  sweat,  'cause  I 
knowed  Kansas  wouldn't  lose  no  time,  an'  he  ain't  no 
slouch  of  a  trailer  himself.  Well,  I  gotta  be  siftin'  along 
back  to  Sparksburg." 

He  arose  and  stretched  his  arms  crackingly. 


A   Pleasant   Evening  335 

"  Just  out  o'  spite  now,  Bert,"  said  Red  Kane.  "  I'll 
do  you  a  good  turn  some  day.  I  guess  me'n  Tom  are  a 
heap  obliged  to  yuh." 

"  That's  all  right.  No  call  to  be  obliged.  Didn't  you 
head  off  Skinner  from  drillin'  me?  Well  then,  whatcha 
talkin'  about?" 

"  Just  a  shake,  Bert.  Who  swore  out  them  war 
rants?" 

"  Buck  Saylor,  Lumley  an'  Billy  Bruff." 

"  Why  you  lookin'  so  happy  ?  "  Tom  demanded  sav 
agely  of  his  brother.  "  You  might  —  Look  at  him ! 
Look  at  the  poor  fool,  Bert!  He's  laughin'!  He's 
laughin'  fit  to  split !  " 

"  Who  wouldn't  laugh,"  chortled  Red,  pounding  his 
leg  in  glee.  "Buck  Saylor!  Of  course  it  would  be 
Buck.  I  might  'a'  guessed  it.  Buck  Saylor  shore  ex 
plains  a  lot  o'  things." 

"  Then  s'pose  you  explain  a  few,"  snapped  Tom.  "  I'd 
just  like  to  know  what's  what,  bein's  I'm  like  to  be  ar 
rested  most  any  time  now." 

"  Wait  till  I  work  her  all  out.  Yo're  takin'  Hudson  to 
Farewell,  ain't  yuh,  Bert?  " 

"  Shore.  He'll  have  to  go  there  first  before  goin'  back 
to  Marysville." 

"In  a  hurry?" 

"Why?" 

"  We'd  take  it  as  a  favor,  if  yuh'd  use  up  two  weeks 
gettin'  to  Farewell.  How  about  it?  " 

"  Shore.  What's  two  weeks  between  friends?  Any- 
thin'  else?" 

"If  yuh  could  manage  to  see  he  stays  in  Farewell  a 
week  before  he's  sent  south,  it  would  give  us  a  li'l  more 
time  in  case  —  in  case  —  just  in  case." 

"  Gawd  he  knows  what  yo're  drivin'  at,  Red,  I  don't. 
But  I'll  do  my  best  to  have  Hudson  stay  in  Farewell  a 
week.  Look  out  for  Kansas  now.  He's  one  perseverin' 


336  Lynch   Lawyers 

gent  in  pants,  an'  yuh  can  put  down  a  bet  on  that.  So 
long." 

Tom  Kane  watched  Bert  Kinzie  mount  his  horse  and 
ride  away.  Then  he  sat  back  on  his  heels,  drew  a  long 
breath  and  opened  his  mouth. 

"  Don't  say  it,"  urged  his  brother.  "  This  ain't  no 
time  to  be  humorous." 

"  Humorous!  "  exploded  Tom.  "  Humorous!  Which 
you  make  me  so  hot  I  could  feed  you  wolf-pisen !  Of  all 
the  damfools  I  ever  see  yo're  shore  the  damfoolest! 
You  an'  yore  bright  li'l  plan  for  turnin'  Ben  Lenton  loose 
has  got  us  in  a  fine  tangle,  a  fi-ine  tangle.  Oh,  yes,  says 
you,  it'll  work  out  all  same  fallin'  off  a  log,  but  you  didn't 
say  the  log  might  be  standin'  straight  up  an'  they  might 
be  ropes  round  our  necks  to  keep  us  from  fallin'  too  far. 
No,  you  didn't  say  nothin'  about  that.  Not  a  word.  I 
s'pose  you  thought  that  crowd  o'  hard-ridin'  Flipup  folks 
was  somethin'  to  laugh  at,  huh  ?  Well,  it  didn't  tickle  me, 
not  a  solitary  tickle.  An'  —  " 

"Aw,  whatsa  matter  with  yuh?"  interrupted  Red. 
"  You  act  as  if  yore  neck  was  the  only  neck  in  the  world." 

"  I  still  gotta  see  the  neck  I'd  like  better,"  countered 
Tom.  "  An'  I'm  aimin'  to  keep  it  fit  to  breathe  through. 
An'  I  got  a  business  in  Farewell,  too.  Maybe  you've  for 
got  that.  How'm  I  gonna  go  back  ?  How's  either  of  us 
gonna  go  back,  I'd  like  to  know?  Can't  yuh  do  nothin' 
but  sit  there  like  a  fatheaded  mud-turtle  an'  snicker? 
This  here  is  serious,  you  saddle-galled  idjit,  serious." 

"  Shore,  she's  serious,"  admitted  Red.  "  I  can  see 
that." 

"  Oh,  you  can,  huh?  You  see  they's  somethin'  in  this, 
do  yuh?  That's  fine,  that  is.  Might  I  ask,  if  she  ain't 
too  much,  now  that  yuh  see  we're  out  on  a  limb  an'  the 
bear  a-waitin',  what  yo're  gonna  do  about  it?  " 

"  You  can  ask,"  said  Red,  inhaling  the  smoke  of  a 
cigarette  with  a  placidity  that  made  Tom  yearn  to  smite 


A    Pleasant   Evening  337 

him.  "  You  can  do  that,  of  course.  But  why  worry, 
Tom  ?  Why  worry  ?  " 

"  Why  worry?     Why  worry?  " 

"Shore,  ain't  I  here?" 

"  An'  I  wish  you  was  some'ers  else,  an'  had  stayed 
there  ten  years  an'  was  countin'  on  stayin'  ten  years 
longer.  I  ain't  got  the  words  to  tell  you  what  I  think 
o'  yuh." 

"  Don't  try.  Yuh  might  choke.  Listen  —  an'  stop 
cussin'.  Yo're  beginnin'  to  repeat  yoreself  anyhow,  so 
yuh  might's  well  —  Listen,  will  yuh  ?  They  ain't  no 
danger  of  our  not  callin'  the  turn.  Get  that  through 
yore  thick  head  an'  be  happy." 

"  Howja  know  that?  "     Tom  demanded  unbelievingly. 

"  Well,  we  might  have  one  chance  in  twenty  o'  losin'," 
qualified  Red.  "But  what's  one  in  twenty?  Why,  no 
risk  at  all.  I'll  get  us  out  o'  this  too  easy.  Leave  it  to 
me,  cowboy,  leave  it  to  me." 

"  Huh !  Might  'a'  knowed  yuh  didn't  know  what  yuh 
was  talkin'  about.  Leave  it  to  you!  Ain't  I  been  a- 
leavin'  it  to  you,  an'  look  what's  happened.  Look  what's 
happened !  " 

"  Yo're  millin'  again.  Sign  yo're  gettin'  old  or  losin' 
yore  peanut  of  a  mind  or  somethin'.  Listen,  I  got  a 
plan." 

"Another  one!" 

"  Shore.     I  —  " 

"  You'n  me  are  gonna  part  right  here.  Plans !  Plans ! 
Plans!  You  don't  introduce  me  to  no  more  plans,  not 
while  I  got  my  health !  " 

"  Si'down  an'  shut  up.  I  tell  yuh  I  got  four  aces  an* 
a  joker  that'll  back  them  warrants  plumb  off  the  table  in 
to  the  stove." 

Tom  sat. 

"  It  don't  sound  possible,"  Tom  said  musingly. 


338  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  It  is  possible,"  flared  Red.  "  Can't  yuh  see  how  it 
is?" 

"  I  didn't  mean  that.  What  bogs  me  down  is  how  yuh 
puzzled  her  all  out  thataway.  You  don't  look  like  yuh 
got  brains.  Still,  yuh  can't  never  tell  —  Leggo !  Leggo ! 
What  yuh  try  in'  to  do  —  sprain  my  ankle?  Stop  foolin', 
will  yuh?  They's  Skinner  a-hollerin'.  What's  he 
want?" 

"  Stop  yore  yowlin',"  Red  commanded  crossly,  his 
fingers  busy  with  the  knots  in  Skinner's  bonds. 

"  I  guess  you'd  yowl,  too,"  snarled  Skinner.  "  You 
jiggers  tied  me  down  right  over  a  ant-hill,  an'  the  ants  are 
riotin'  all  up  an'  down  my  back.  Somethin'  crawled  into 
my  ear  too." 

"  Don't  yuh  care it'll  crawl  out  soon's  it  finds  out 

where  it  is.  An'  the  sun's  near  down,  an'  then  the  ants'll 
go  home  to  bed,  so  yuh  really  got  nothin'  to  bother  yuh 
a-tall.  Yo're  shore  the  most  peevish  party  I  ever  see. 
There,  yo're  loose.  Sit  up  an'  be  happy.  Here's  the 
makin's." 

"  I'd  a  whole  lot  rather  have  a  pair  of  pants,"  fretted 
Skinner,  nevertheless  taking  the  proffered  tobacco  and 
papers.  "  Ain't  you  got  even  a  pair  of  overalls  in  yore 
warbags  ?  " 

"  Lordy  no.  What  yuh  take  us  for  —  drygoods 
stores?" 

"  I  might  as  well  be  naked,  gents.  My  underclo'es  is 
all  tore  an'  wore  to  frazzles." 

"  Don't  apologize,"  Red  told  him  kindly.  "  Tom  an' 
me  don't  mind." 

"  I  ain't  apologizin',"  denied  the  aggrieved  Skinner, 
shaking  a  frowsy  head.  "  But  I  don't  like  livin'  like 
Adam  nohow  —  too  many  gnats." 

"  They's  that  wrapper  an'  sunbonnet.  What  more  yuh 
want?  Lookit,  if  you  say  pants  again,  yuh  don't  get  no 
more  smokin'.  You  got  a  shirt  on,  a  good  shirt,  an',  if 


A    Pleasant   Evening  339 

you  sit  down  cross-legged,  it'll  cover  up  most  o'  yuh,  an' 
then  the  gnats  won't  have  quite  such  a  picnic." 

"  Why  shouldn't  they  have  a  picnic  ?  "  Tom  queried 
meaningly. 

"That's  so,"  said  Red.  "I  never  thought  o'  that. 
Them  gnats  are  shore  gonna  be  a  help.  Skinner,  take 
off  yore  shirt." 

But  Skinner  would  not,  so  they  incontinently  worried 
him  out  of  it.  Now,  reduced  anew  to  desperation  and  his 
nether  garments,  he  would  have  donned  the  despised  cal 
ico  wrapper.  But  this  they  would  not  allow. 

Skinner  gloomily  flung  grass  and  green  branches  on  the 
fire  for  the  purpose  of  creating  a  smudge  and  squatted 
down  to  choke  and  splutter  in  the  rolling  coils  of  smoke. 
Tom,  a  Winchester  across  his  knees,  kept  an  eye  on 
Skinner. 

"  Smudge  don't  keep  off  all  them  gnats,  does  it  ?  "  Red 
observed  cheerfully  as  Skinner  slapped  and  slapped  again 
the  outlying  regions  of  his  anatomy.  "If  you  was  thin 
ner  now,  you  wouldn't  mind  'em  so  much.  They  say 
they's  no  feelin'  in  bone.  Must  be  kind  o'  smothery  set- 
tin'  there  in  all  that  smoke.  I  don't  guess  it's  real  good 
for  the  lungs.  Lordy,  Skinner,  yuh  sound  just  like  a 
drum  when  yuh  crack  yoreself  thataway.  Can  yuh  beat 
the  long  roll,  I  wonder  ?  Yuh  can't  ?  Well,  it  don't  mat 
ter.  Gnats  gettin'  thicker,  huh?  They  will  with  night 
comin'  on.  Yo're  due  to  be  one  busy  li'l  feller,  Skinner. 
About  that  question  now  —  Who  was  it  killed  Dick  Len- 
ton?" 

Skinner  clamped  a  stubborn  jaw,  turned  his  back  and 
slapped  away. 

"  You'll  get  tired  o'  that  after  a  while,"  continued  the 
drawling  voice.  "  Them  gnats  are  shore  active.  Tom, 
I  don't  guess  we'll  have  to  use  the  knife  on  him  after  all." 

"  No,"  replied  Tom  with  a  serious  face.  "  I  guess 
not." 


34°  Lynch    Lawyers 

"  An'  how,"  pursued  Red,  turning  back  to  Skinner, 
"  did  Bill  Doran  come  to  get  Dick  Lenton's  shotgun  ?  " 

There  was  no  reply  from  Skinner. 

"  Listen  here,"  Red  went  on  persuasively,  "  Fm  flat- 
f  ootin'  my  bets  on  you,  Skinner.  When  I  seen  that  shot 
gun,  I  kind  o'  thought  Bill  Doran  could  help  me  out. 
But  Flipup  spoiled  that,  an'  you  was  elected  again.  Skin 
ner,  you  ain't  gonna  blight  my  young  life  by  keepin'  yore 
face  shut  forever,  are  yuh?  Shake  yore  head  for  '  No.* 
Stubborn  —  stubborn's  a  mule,  an'  gittin'  a  sull  on,  too. 
Tom,  I'll  match  yuh  for  first  watch." 


CHAPTER    THIRTY-THREE 

SKINNER    IS    REASONED    WITH 

IT  may  be  said  that  Skinner  passed  a  bad  night.  The 
gnats  seemed  to  become  thicker  and  more  active  as  the 
hours  dragged  on.  Red-eyed  and  bitten  in  more  places 
than  he  cared  to  think  about,  Skinner  saw  the  sun  rise 
clear.  It  promised  a  fine  day,  a  most  glorious  day,  but 
there  was  no  joy  in  the  heart  of  Skinner.  He  looked 
upon  the  form  of  the  sleeping  Tom  and  ground  his  teeth. 
Red  looked  upon  Skinner  and  closed  one  eye. 

"  Yuh  know,  Skinner,"  he  remarked  in  a  casual  tone, 
"  I'd  tell  who  killed  Dick  Lenton  if  I  was  you." 

The  reply  was  a  curse  —  to  be  precise,  three  curses. 
But  these  lacked  spontaneity.  Observing  which  and  the 
haggard  weariness  of  Skinner's  expression,  Red  was 
moved  to  grin. 

"  Lordy,"  he  drawled,  "  them  li'l  gnats  must  'a'  been 
right  busy  last  night.  You  look  sort  of  blistery  in  spots 
—  a  whole  lot  of  spots.  Wait  till  the  sun  strikes  'em, 
old  settler.  You'll  shore  wish  you'd  been  a  better  boy." 

"You'll  gimme  my  shirt  back,  won't  yuh?"  Skinner 
asked  uneasily. 

"  Not  to-day  nor  yet  to-morrow.  The  day  after, 
maybe.  I'll  have  to  think  about  it." 

"  But  I  tore  my  undershirt  all  down  the  back  last  night 
tryin'  to  get  at  one  o'  them  gnats,"  wailed  Skinner,  aghast 
at  the  prospect.  "  I  gotta  wear  somethin'.  Gimme  that 
calico  wrapper;  I'll  wear  that." 

"  You  won't  even  wear  the  sunbonnet,  Skinner." 


Lynch   Lawyers 


"  But  I  can't  go  round  this  way  alia  time  !  "  Skinner's 
red  eyes  fairly  popped  with  dismay. 

"  Oh,  alia  time  is  somethin'  else  again.  We're  talkin' 
about  now.  But  I'll  tell  yuh  what,  feller,  if  yore  troubles 
get  too  hard,  I'll  let  yuh  wear  that  calico  wrapper  an'  sun- 
bonnet." 

Anon  they  proceeded.  But  without  haste.  As  Red 
confided  to  Skinner,  "  We  got  all  the  time  they  is." 
Which  was  no  doubt  why  in  the  course  of  the  morning 
they  traveled  consecutively  north,  east,  south  and  west. 

"  This  sun  is  killin'  me,"  moaned  Skinner.  "  Why  yuh 
got  to  follow  these  dry  washes  alia  time?  They's  some 
shade  over  there  by  them  trees.  Why  can't  we  go  that 
way?  An'  where  yuh  goin'  anyway?  We  ain't  done 
nothin'  since  sun-up  but  head  first  this  way  an'  then  that 
way  like  lost  tender  —  Ouch  !  " 

The  exclamation  was  called  forth  by  Skinner's  inad 
vertently  resting  a  sunburned  forearm  on  the  brass  horn 
of  his  saddle. 

"  Horn  kind  o'  hot,  huh?  "  drawled  Red.  "  It  would 
be.  Lordy,  man,  yo're  red  as  the  brand  on  a  Wild  Rose 
tomatter  can.  When  them  li'l  gnat  jiggers  come  scat- 
terin'  over  yuh  tonight,  you'll  have  a  party." 

"  Yo're  torturin'  me,"  declared  Skinner. 

"  Never  a  torture.  We  wouldn't  torture  yuh.  Ain't 
I  told  yuh  we  wouldn't?  You  can  take  my  word.  It's 
them  gnats  an'  the  sunshine.  We  can't  help  it  if  them 
gnats  think  yo're  good  to  eat.  It  ain't  our  fault  if  they 
don't  know  no  better.  An'  we  can't  help  the  sun,  can 
we?" 

"  You  can  gimme  a  shirt  or  that  wrapper  !  "  cried  the 
goaded  Skinner,  trembling  in  the  saddle  with  varied  emo 
tions. 

"  Now  that's  just  what  we  can't  do,"  said  Red 
warmly.  "  Can  we,  Tom?  " 

"  Lordy,  no  !  it  wouldn't  be  right  nohow." 


Skinner  is    Reasoned   With     343 

"  So  that's  how  it  is,  Skinner.  Neither  Tom  nor  me 
sees  how  we  can  help  yuh  out  without  yuh  tell  us  what  we 
wanna  know  about  Dick  Lenton's  killer,  an'  also  how  Bill 
Doran  come  to  have  Dick  Lenton's  shotgun.  We  gotta 
know  them  things,  Skinner.  We  just  gotta,  an'  yuh  can 
stick  a  pin  in  that." 

Skinner  stiffened  a  sore  back  and  gazed  straight  ahead. 
Red  winked  at  Tom. 

"  He's  weakenin',"  he  said  in  a  half-whisper. 

"  I  ain't !  "  yapped  Skinner.     "  I'll  never  tell !  " 

"  Root  hog  or  die,  feller,  root  hog  or  die.  Who  killed 
Dick  Lenton  ?  Was  it  you  or  Lumley  or  Bruff  or  Usher  ? 
Who  done  it?" 

Skinner  gritted  his  teeth  and  clenched  his  hands.  His 
nerve  was  not  yet  shattered. 

"  That  wrapper,"  observed  Red,  "  would  shore  keep 
some  o'  the  sun  off.  So  would  the  sunbonnet.  Does 
the  back  of  yore  neck  hurt,  Skinner?  I  wonder  is  he  in 
danger  o'  sunstroke,  Tom.  Whadda  yuh  think?" 

"  Not  so  long's  we  keep  movin'  he  ain't." 

A  remarkably  tough  bird  was  Skinner. 

He  did  not  weaken  throughout  that  long  hot  summer 
day.  When  they  stopped  to  camp  for  the  night,  he  dis 
mounted  with  a  painful  stiffness  that  would  have  been 
pitiable  in  a  less  reprehensible  member  of  society.  As  it 
was,  Red  nodded  approvingly.  Another  day  or  two,  he 
decided,  would  call  the  turn  and  call  it  correctly.  Tom 
was  not  so  sanguine.  Skinner  was  displaying  uncommon 
fortitude.  The  pain  of  his  bites  and  burns  must  have 
been  agonizing. 

Red  had  chosen  the  camp  site  with  admirable  discrim 
ination.  The  gnats  were  present  in  clouds.  They  fell 
upon  the  puffy  Skinner  with  promptitude  and  avidity. 
They  even  proved  annoying  to  Red  and  Tom. 

That  night  Skinner  endeavored  to  run  away.  Red,  on 
guard  that  watch,  let  him  run.  This  greatly  to  the  sur- 


344  Lynch    Lawyers 

prise  of  Skinner,  who  had  expected  to  be  shot  at.  A 
moment  later  Skinner,  bounding  like  a  frightened  coy 
ote  under  the  pale  light  of  the  dry  new  moon,  dashed 
into  a  patch  of  what  appeared  to  be  high  grass  but  was 
really  a  dense  and  healthy  growth  of  young  briars. 

A  sinuous  tendril  as  thick  as  a  lead  pencil  and  armed 
with  thorns  by  the  dozen  wrapped  itself  round  the  ankle 
of  Skinner  and  jerked  him  down.  Oh,  it  was  then  that 
he  yelled  and  swore  and  floundered. 

Red,  strolling  up  a  moment  later,  seized  him  by  the 
hair  and  yanked  him  out  of  that.  Skinner,  sore, 
scratched,  his  skin  a  living  fire,  aching  in  every  bone,  sat 
up  and  blinked  at  Red. 

"Thought  I  wasn't  watchin'  yuh,  didn't  yuh?"  ob 
served  Red,  his  hands  folded  over  the  muzzle  of  his  Win 
chester.  '  You  poor  idjit,  whadda  yuh  guess  I  sat  down 
by  that  bullsap  an'  began  to  nod  for?  Just  so  yuh'd  try 
to  pull  yore  freight.  Knowed  yuh  would.  Knowed 
yuh'd  run  this  way.  Only  way  open  for  yuh  to  run. 
An'  these  briars  so  nice  an'  handy.  Funny  yuh  didn't  no 
tice  'em  like  I  done  while  we  was  makin'  camp." 

Slowly  two  great  fat  tears  oozed  from  Skinner's  eyes 
and  furrowed  their  way  down  his  dirty  cheeks.  With  a 
grunting  cry  he  flopped  over  on  his  side,  hid  his  face  in 
his  hands  and  began  to  sob. 

It  is  no  pleasant  thing  to  witness  the  weeping  of  a  man 
—  even  such  a  man  as  Skinner.  Red  sucked  in  his  un 
der-lip,  his  brows  drawing  together.  He  would  have 
preferred  to  be  merciful,  but  there  are  times  when  mercy 
is  out  of  place.  This  was  one  of  those  times.  He  called 
to  his  sleeping  brother. 

Between  them  they  dragged  the  now  hysterical  Skinner 
back  to  camp.  They  tied  him  to  a  tree  and  soused  him 
with  many  hatfuls  of  water. 

"  Now  or  never,"  said  Red  when  Skinner  showed  signs 
of  emerging  from  his  emotional  paroxysm.  "  If  he  don't 


Skinner  is   Reasoned  With      345 

snitch  now  after  all  he's  gone  through,  he's  a  howlin'  wiz 
ard." 

"  Which  he  ain't,"  declared  Tom.     "  Hop  to  it." 

Red  sank  down  on  one  heel  in  front  of  the  bound  man. 
The  thin  moonlight  slanted  across  Skinner's  face  and 
body.  He  was  a  most  unlovely  object. 

"  Skinner,"  said  Red,  "  who  killed  Dick  Lenton?  " 

Skinner  merely  rolled  his  eyes.  Red  repeated  the 
question.  Skinner  dropped  his  chin  forward  on  his 
breast.  His  lumpy  jaw-muscles  hardened.  Monoto 
nously  Red  repeated  the  question.  But  never  a  word  said 
Skinner.  Till  Red's  throat  became  dry  and  his  voice 
husky,  he  put  the  question  to  Skinner  at  ten-second  inter 
vals.  Then  he  gave  way  to  Tom.  When  Tom  tired, 
Red  took  on  the  job  again.  Still  Skinner  held  out. 

Suddenly  Red  changed  his  line  of  questioning. 

"  Skinner,"  said  he,  "  tell  me  how  Art  Teller  got  hold 
of  Dick  Lenton's  three-diamond  ring?" 

Skinner  came  alive  with  a  jerk. 

"  Say  —  say  that  again !  "  he  cried. 

"  Tell  me  how  Art  Teller  come  to  get  Dick  Lenton's 
three-diamond  ring." 

"  How  d'yuh  know  Art's  got  it  ?  " 

"He  ain't  got  it.  He  had  it.  I  took  it  off  him. 
Here  it  is.  Ever  see  it  before?  " 

Red,  having  extracted  the  ring  from  the  inner  pocket 
where  it  lay,  held  it  up  between  his  thumb  and  forefinger. 
The  moonshine  struck  tiny  sparks  of  greenish  fire  from 
the  three  diamonds. 

Skinner's  puffed  eyes  glowered  at  the  ring.  He 
gulped.  He  gulped  again.  Then  he  cursed  Art  Teller 
with  passionate  intensity.  He  likewise  cursed  several 
other  people,  of  whom  presently. 

"  He  told  me  that  ring  was  lost,  the  lousy  liar!  "  de 
clared  Skinner  at  the  tail  of  his  tirade. 

"  Who  told  you?  "  Red  asked  quickly. 


346  Lynch   Lawyers 

"That  rat  Teller!  Who  do  yuh  s'pose?  He  skun 
me  out  o'  that  ring !  It  was  gonna  be  my  share !  "  Thus 
Mr.  Skinner  in  part.  Most  of  his  remarks  were  unprint 
able. 

Red  tucked  away  the  ring,  squatted  down  on  his  heel 
and  awaited  the  end  in  patience.  When  it  came,  he  said 
gently : 

"  You  might  tell  the  rest  of  it,  Skinner.  You've  done 
pretty  well  already." 

"  Gimme  a  drink  an'  that  female  wrapper  an'  slack  off 
this  rope  that's  cuttin'  me  in  half,  an'  I  will,"  bargained 
Skinner.  "  Skun  me,  the  dirty  skunk !  I'll  show  him ! 
My  Gawd,"  he  added,  as  Red  eased  off  a  turn,  "  my  Gawd, 
what  a  relief !  " 


CHAPTER   THIRTY-FOUR 

THE   REAPER 

MR.  ART  TELLER,  dozing  in  the  shade  of  a  neatly  built 
cabin  at  the  back  of  a  high  ridge,  snapped  wide-awake  of 
a  sudden.  Was  that  the  crackle  of  dry  brush  ?  He  won 
dered.  He  got  up  quietly,  slid  into  the  cabin  and  recon- 
noitered  the  forest  from  the  back  window.  He  saw 
nothing.  The  peace  of  ages  was  over  the  landscape. 
He  waited  five  minutes.  Then,  hearing  nothing,  he  re 
turned  to  the  outer  air  —  and  the  muzzle  of  a  six-shooter. 
Red  Kane  was  behind  that  muzzle. 

Art  Teller  thrust  both  hands  aloft  without  being  told. 
Red  ordered  his  victim  to  face  about  and  separated  him 
from  his  weapons. 

"  We  meet  again,"  said  Red  Kane.  "  Next  time, 
Arthur,  when  you  hear  a  funny  noise  off  in  the  woods, 
you'd  better  make  trail  without  waitin'  a  second.  You 
did  hear  a  funny  noise  in  the  woods,  didn't  yuh  ?  That 
was  Tom  playin'  tricks  on  yuh.  Here  he  comes  now." 

"Who's  that  with  him  —  a  woman?  What  —  why, 
it's  Skinner !  He's  snitched !  He's  snitched  on  me !  " 

"  You  hadn't  oughta  held  out  the  ring  on  him,  Artie. 
That  wasn't  square.  That  was  tinhorn  work  an'  one  big 
mistake.  Whadda  yuh  know  about  Skinner  that  the 
sheriff  would  like  to  know?  He  snitched  on  you,  Artie. 
Now  you  snitch  on  him.  What  could  be  fairer  than 
that?" 

Red  beamed  expansively  upon  Art  Teller.  The  latter 
glowered.  He  shifted  his  feet.  Red,  realizing  that 


348  Lynch    Lawyers 

Teller  was  a  wily  and  resourceful  person,  stepped  back  a 
yard. 

"  I  wouldn't,"  he  advised  gently.  "  Yo're  quick,  but 
you  ain't  quick  enough.  I  —  just  —  wouldn't.  Was 
you  gonna  tell  me  anythin'  about  Skinner?  " 

"  Lots  o'  time  for  that,"  said  Art  Teller,  a  convulsive 
tremor  rippling  across  his  wizened  face.  "  Later  I  might 
tell  yuh  a  lot." 

"  Any  time,  any  time." 

"  Can  I  put  my  hands  down  now.  You  got  my  gun, 
an'  my  elbows  hurt." 

"  Take  'em  down.     I'm  watchin'  yuh." 

Arrived  then  Tom  Kane  and  the  wrappered  Skinner. 
Art  Teller  did  not  curse  Skinner.  He  merely  stood  and 
glared  at  him.  The  landlord  promptly  began  to  swear 
and  call  Teller  names. 

"  You  measly  Judas,"  said  Teller,  lifting  his  right  hand 
and  slowly  scratching  the  angle  of  his  jaw,  "  whadda  yuh 
think  yo're  gettin'  out  o'  this?  " 

"  Never  you  mind,"  said  Skinner  triumphantly.  "  I 
ain't  gonna  be  hung  anyway." 

At  the  tail  of  the  words  Art  Teller's  hand,  the  one  that 
had  been  so  innocently  rubbing  his  jaw,  flashed  to  the 
back  of  his  neck  and  flashed  forward  again  with  equal, 
uncanny  speed.  Followed  a  twinkle  in  the  air,  a  whir,  a 
cough,  and  Skinner  was  down,  a  ten-inch  bowie  transfix 
ing  his  throat. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  in  the  above  situation  Red 
remained  idle.  He  was  quick,  but  the  knife-haft  had  left 
Art  Teller's  hand  the  veriest  fraction  of  a  second  before 
Red's  bullet  shattered  the  bones  of  the  palm. 

Art  Teller  sat  down  calmly  on  a  bench  beside  the  cabin 
door.  He  held  his  right  wrist  with  his  left  hand  and 
gazed  with  satisfaction  upon  Skinner  sobbing  his  life 
away  on  the  grass. 

"  Takin'  the  knife  out  won't  help  him  any,"  sneered 


The   Reaper  349 

Art  Teller.  "  He  said  he  wouldn't  be  hung,  an'  I  guess 
for  once  he  spoke  the  truth.  Judas !  " 

Art  Teller  lifted  his  upper  lip  and  spat  upon  the  ground. 
Willingly  Tom  could  have  killed  him  where  he  sat. 
Skinner,  the  star  witness,  indeed  the  only  one  willing 
to  give  evidence  before  a  court,  dying!  In  two  minutes 
he  would  be  dead.  But  there  Tom  was  at  fault.  Skin 
ner  lasted  out  three  and  a  half. 

Tom  —  he  had  been  kneeling  beside  Skinner  —  got 
slowly  to  his  feet.  He  planted  his  hands  on  his  hips  and 
gazed  balefully  and  contemptuously  at  his  brother. 

"  I  don't  guess  now,"  he  said  with  scorn,  "  you  ever 
heard  of  a  gent  packin'  a  bowie  under  the  back  of  his  vest. 
Yo're  the  sport  who  yawped  his  head  off  'cause  Hollister 
hid  out  a  derringer  on  me,  ain't  yuh?  Ain't  yuh,  huh? 
An'  here  yuh  let  this  jigger  keep  a  ten-inch  knife  right 
where  he  can  get  at  it  handiest.  An'  look  what  he  done 
with  it!  This  is  a  fine  note!  " 

Red,  contrite  and  inwardly  castigating  himself  for  a 
purblind  fool,  attempted  no  excuses.  In  silence  he 
washed,  plugged  and  bandaged  Art  Teller's  wounded 
hand.  When  he  had  completed  the  task  and  stepped 
back,  Art  Teller  lifted  up  his  pale  eyes,  an  unpleasant  grin 
on  his  wizened  face. 

"  I  s'pose  you  was  gonna  use  Skinner  for  a  witness," 
said  he.  "  Sort  o'  figurin'  on  that,  wasn't  yuh  ?  Yeah, 
I  guess  you  was.  Well,  you  won't  make  me  do  no  talkin' 
the  way  yuh  made  that  snitch  of  a  Skinner." 

"  Won't  we?"  said  Red.  "  That's  shore  tough. 
Have  to  do  the  best  we  can  without  yuh,  I  expect." 

"  An'  that  won't  be  much." 

"Won't  it?  Outside  of  yore  bein'  stretched  a-plenty, 
looks  like  you  win,  don't  it  ?  " 

Art  Teller  grunted  and  spat.  The  prospect  of  the  rope 
did  not  seem  to  feaze  him.  His  was  a  hardened  soul. 

They  spent  the  remainder  of  the  day  and  that  night  at 


350  Lynch   Lawyers 

the  cabin.  For  the  horses  required  rest,  and  there  was 
excellent  feed  in  the  mountain  meadow  between  the  cabin 
and  the  forest. 

Supper's  bacon  and  coffee  disposed  of,  Art  Teller  was 
roped  to  his  bunk  for  the  night  and  the  brothers  lay 
down  on  the  grass  beyond  ear-shot  of  the  cabin,  there  to 
smoke  and  wrangle  whisperingly. 

"  An'  we  was  bettin'  on  Skinner  to  get  us  shut  o'  this 
muss,"  snarled  Tom,  pinching  out  a  half-smoked  ciga 
rette.  "  Now  we  gotta  go  to  work  all  over  again  on  this 
jigger." 

"  An'  this  jigger's  a  different  breed  o'  dog.  He  ain't 
soft  like  Skinner.  I  guess  now  Brad  made  a  mistake 
when  he  said  Teller  would  be  more  meachin'  than  Square- 
Face  Higby.  Meachin' !  The  way  he  slung  that  knife 
wasn't  meachin'  nohow.  I'm  tellin'  yuh,  Tom,  unless  we 
treat  Teller  to  a  two-legged  dose  of  warwhoop  big  medi 
cine  he  won't  talk.  Me,  I  thought  I  could  manage  that 
all  right  if  I  had  to,  but  after  watchin'  Skinner  an'  them 
gnats,  I'm  free  to  admit  I  know  I  can't.  So  —  " 

"  Yeah.     Well?  "  prompted  Tom. 

Red  did  not  immediately  reply.  He  rolled  over  on  his 
back  and  looked  up  at  the  stars  of  the  evening  a- wink 
above  the  mountains. 

"  I'll  tell  yuh,"  he  said  after  a  space,  "  Skinner  would 
'a'  been  a  help.  I  ain't  denyin'  it.  But  we  can  manage 
without  him." 

"We!  We!  Which  yo're  takin'  too  much  for 
granted.  I  dunno  nothin'  about  no  '  we '  whatever. 
Yo're  a-doin'  this.  You  can  have  all  the  credit,  yuh 
betcha.  I'm  free  to  admit  the  closer  I  get  to  that  war 
rant  the  less  I'm  shore  yore  scheme  without  Skinner  is 
any  good." 

"  You  gotta  admit  even  without  him  my  plan's  got  its 
points." 

"  So  has  a  cow's  horns,  a  paper  o'  pins  an'  a  barb-wire 


The   Reaper  351 

fence.  Speakin'  personal,  yore  scheme  reminds  me 
mostly  o5  the  fence.  We're  snagged  so  good  an'  plenty." 

"  Aw,  shut  up !  You  act  like  it  was  all  my  fault ! 
S'pose  we  are  arrested.  They  can't  hold  us  very  long." 

"  Very  long !  Very  long !  Great  Goddlemighty ! 
Can't  hold  us  very  long!  Them's  the  very  words  the 
lawyer  sharp  told  the  jigger  in  jail,  an'  the  poor  chunk 
got  twenty  year!  Nemmine  argufyin'!  I'm  through 
listenin'  to  you!  Bad  luck!  Nothin'  but!  First  the 
warrant,  an'  now  Skinner.  Aw  right,  aw  right,  g'on. 
You  can't  make  me  think  no  different,  but  I'll  listen  if 
it  does  yuh  any  good." 

Red  did  his  utmost  to  convince  his  brother  that  Skin 
ner's  demise  did  not  necessarily  signify  the  upsetting  of 
their  apple-cart.  But  stubborn  as  one  of  his  own  mules 
was  Tom,  a  very  Covenanter  in  his  convictions.  He  re 
mained  pessimistic  no  matter  what  Red  said.  Even 
Red's  taking  the  first  watch  out  of  turn  left  him  cold. 

Red  entered  the  cabin  and  inspected  with  a  hard  eye 
Mr.  Teller  and  his  fastenings.  He  came  out,  picked  up 
his  rifle,  levered  home  a  cartridge  and  carefully  lowered 
the  hammer  to  the  safety  notch. 

He  slumped  down  on  the  grass  near  Tom  and  began 
to  play  one-handed  mumblypeg  without  the  peg.  Hav 
ing  successfully  three  consecutive  times  tossed  "  Jack-in- 
the-blanket "  he  made  no  move  to  pluck  the  knife  out  of 
the  ground,  but  sat  looking  at  it  with  a  set  and  serious 
face.  A  wrinkle  of  worry  creased  the  skin  between  his 
eyebrows.  Then  he  scowled  at  nothing  and  spoke  in  a 
low  voice. 

"  What  yuh  swearin'  for?"  queried  the  mildly  sur 
prised  Tom. 

"  I'm  gettin'  nervous." 

Tom's  mild  surprise  changed  abruptly  to  amazement. 
Never  in  his  life  had  he  heard  Red  talk  like  that  and  in 
that  tone. 


352  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  Whadda  yuh  mean  by  nervous,  an'  nervous  o' 
what?" 

"  Dot  Lenton." 

"  Maybe  she'll  give  yuh  the  mitten  after  all,"  Tom  said 
hopefully. 

"  Don't  look  on  the  bright  side  so  hard/'  snarled  Red. 
"  I  ain't  worryin'  none  about  that.  It's  Brad  Usher  an' 
that  sheriff  an'  his  man." 

"  Didn't  yuh  tell  her  to  watch  herself  an'  stay  round 
town  all  she  could  ?  Didn't  yuh  tell  Telescope  to  pass  the 
word  to  Jake  —  " 

"  Natur-ally.  I  ain't  a  complete  fool.  You  heard  me 
tell  Telescope  yoreself.  But  she's  venturesome,  Tom. 
She'll  think  it's  her  duty  to  look  after  the  ranch  an'  the 
horses  while  her  old  man's  away,  an'  she'll  do  it  —  an' 
them  three  devils  wouldn't  want  a  better  chance  than 
that." 

"  They  wouldn't  have  the  gall  to  touch  her  —  not  in 
Fort  Creek  County.  Which  they'd  be  lynched  so  high 
the  eagles  would  build  nests  in  their  whiskers." 

"  Remember  '  Cutnose  '  Canter  an'  '  Rime  '  Tolliver 
over  at  Mocassin  Spring  on  Soogan  Creek.  They  didn't 
think  nothin'  of  no  lynchin'.  I'd  like  to  know  what 
would  'a'  happened  to  jane  Dale  if  Chuck  Morgan  hadn't 
arrove  when  he  did." 

"  Nothin'  like  —  Why,  lookit  —  Dot  can  look  out 
for  herself,  that  girl.  Jane  Dale  was  a  Easterner  from 
Kansas.  Dot  Lenton  is  a  old-timer  in  this  country,  an' 
don't  you  forget  it.  She's  safe.  Besides,  them  hosses  of 
ours  can't  go  no  farther  without  eight  hours  rest,  if  that's 
what  yo're  thinkin'  about." 

"  S'pose  now  she's  in  trouble,"  Red  persisted  doggedly. 

"  Say,  yo're  stewin'  up  all  of  a  sudden,  seems  to  me. 
You  didn't  —  " 

"  It  just  struck  me  all  of  a  heap  like,  Tom.  I  —  I  keep 
thinkin'  they's  somethin'  up.  I  dunno  why.  But  I  do." 


The   Reaper  353 

"  Feel  it  in  yore  bones,  huh  ?  " 

"  Sort  of,  yeah." 

"  I  knowed  it.  You  got  the  rheumatics.  That's 
what  you  got.  Like  Uncle  Jake  an'  the  Minie  ball  he  got 
in  his  leg  a-fightin'  with  Pap  Price's  Arkansawyers.  He 
was  always  prophesyin'  rain  by  the  way  the  leg  hurt,  an' 
he  was  wrong  as  the  leg  was  nine  times  out  o'  ten.  So 
you  got  no  cause  to  get  all  sweated  up.  Most  likely 
yo're  wrong,  too.  What  yuh  rarin'  about  now?  Ain't 
I  tryin'  to  cheer  yuh  up?  Aw  right,  then,  if  yuh  wanna 
go  on  the  prod,  go  on  the  prod  some'ers  away  from  me  an' 
lemme  sleep." 

Much  to  the  disgust  of  Tom,  Red  insisted  on  an  early 
start. 

"  If  we  pull  our  freight  too  fast  an'  soon,"  protested 
Tom,  sitting  up  and  rubbing  the  sleep  from  his  eyes, 
"  we'll  get  there  before  Bill  an'  Bert  do." 

"  It  don't  matter  none,"  Red  told  him  decisively. 
"  We're  goin'  home  just  as  fast  as  our  hosses  can  last  it." 

It  is  unnecessary  to  detail  the  ride  north.  Suffice  it  to 
say  that  they  pushed  their  horses  to  the  utmost  and,  save 
in  one  instance  when  Red  made  a  solitary  detour  to  Dam 
son  and  Blossom  on  the  railroad,  avoided  inhabited  places. 
They  made  more  than  one  dry  camp,  and  at  the  last  were 
reduced  for  rations  to  the  squirrel  —  pine,  red  and 
ground.  This  last  to  the  disrelish  of  Mr.  Teller. 

"  I  don't  mind  so  much  bein'  glommed  on  to  thisaway," 
he  stated,  having  picked  clean  the  frame  of  a  fat  piney. 
"  I  been  arrested  before,  so  that's  all  right,  but  I  don't 
care  nothin'  about  grubbin'  on  chipmunks,  none  whatever. 
Which  if  I  gotta  eat  any  more  o'  these  tree-climbin'  mice, 
I'll  shore  begin  a-chatterin'  an'  a-growin'  fur." 

They  wasted  no  sympathy  on  the  peevish  Mr.  Teller, 
but  whisked  him  north  with  the  briskest  haste. 

On  an  evening  Jimmie,  the  Bar  S  cook,  was  mixing 
bread  for  the  night's  setting  and  singing  that  mournful- 


354  Lynch   Lawyers 

cst  of  songs,  "  The  Mormon  Bishop's  Lament ",  when 
there  came  a  scratching  at  the  cook-shack's  open  door. 
Instantly  Jimmie  ceased  his  wailing  and  cocked  a  listen 
ing  ear. 

"  It's  me,  Red,"  whispered  a  familiar  voice. 
"Where's  Telescope?" 

"  C'mon  in,"  Jimmie  urged.  "  I  can't  leave  this  bread. 
They's  nobody  here,  only  me." 

"  I'm  doin'  fine  outside,"  was  the  cautious  response. 
"  You  never  know  who's  snoopin'  round.  Tell  me  where 
Telescope  is  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  know  they's  a  warrant  out  for  you  an' 
Tom  too?  An'  —  " 

"  Shore.  I  know  all  that.  I  read  the  papers  every  day. 
Where's  Telescope?  How  many  times  yuh  want  me  to 
ask  yuh?" 

"  He's  in  the  bunk-house.  Lookit  here,  Red,  what 
yuh  aimin'  to  do?  They's  a  posse  out  after  yuh  an' 
every  thin'." 

"  Ain't  that  awful.  I'm  scared  to  death.  Hear  me 
shiver.  Go  an'  get  Telescope  for  me,  will  yuh,  an'  keep 
yore  trap  shut?  " 

"  I  don't  blat,"  was  the  huffy  return.  "  I  ain't  no  sheep. 
I  guess  I  got  some  sense.  We're  all  with  yuh  anyway. 
Shucks,  what  if  yuh  did  turn  Lenton  loose?  It  was  fine 
business,  an'  them  squirts  from  Rock  County  got  what 
was  comin'.  Say,  wasn't  they  hot?  I  should  say  so. 
Rarin'  an'  hollerin'  round  what  they  was  gonna  do  to  yuh 
when  they  caught  yuh.  Oh,  they  was  wild  as  a  nest  o' 
rattlers.  Aw,  I'm  goin',  I'm  goin'.  Bread's  all  ready  to 
set.  Just  a  shake  till  I  cover  her.  Yes,  sir,"  pursued 
Jimmie,  warming  anew  to  his  subject,  "  that  Sheriff  Lum- 
ley  man  was  mad  enough  to  chew  nails.  But  he  hadn't 
no  manner  o'  business  or  right  arrestin'  that  girl." 

At  this  a  whirlwind  burst  into  the  kitchen  and  a  cant- 
hook  grip  clutched  Jimmie  by  the  shoulder. 


The   Reaper  355 

"  What's  that  you  said  ?  "  demanded  a  terrible  voice. 

Jimmie  twisted  his  head  to  face  two  blazing  eyes. 

"  You  rousy  idjit!  "  he  cried.     "  I  didn't  arrest  her!  " 

Thus  recalled  to  himself  Red  let  go  and  stood  back. 

"  Get  Telescope !  "  he  said  harshly. 

Red,  seething  inwardly  with  the  knowledge  of  what 
had  happened  to  Dot,  followed  the  cook  outdoors  and  sat 
down  on  the  wash-bench.  His  ringers  closed  down  and 
clenched  on  the  edge  of  the  two-inch  board  that  formed 
the  seat.  Dot  Lenton  arrested!  Jammed  into  the  cala 
boose  like  a  horse  thief !  He  felt  a  turbulent  horror,  a 
biting  rage  such  as  one  feels  who  witnesses  the  profaning 
of  a  high  altar. 

Indeed,  for  that  matter,  she  was  his  high  altar,  his  god 
dess,  his  sign  and  symbol  of  all  things  good  and  beauti 
ful. 

"  Git  a-hold  of  yoreself ,  you  pop-eyed  coot !  "  he  told 
himself  through  clamped  teeth.  "  This  ain't  no  time  to 
blow  up!  No  time  a-tall!  If  she's  arrested,  you'll  need 
all  yore  fool  brains,  every  last  brain !  " 

From  the  bunk-house  then  came  Telescope  and  Jimmie. 
Red,  taking  with  him  the  half-breed,  promptly  faded  into 
the  darkness.  Jimmie  retired  to  the  cook-shack  and  an 
grily  put  to  soak  the  morning's  beans. 

"  They  needn't  have  rushed  off  thataway,"  he  muttered, 
retying  the  sack.  "  I  wasn't  gonna  listen." 


CHAPTER    THIRTY-FIVE 

THE    BARGAIN 

JAKE  RULE,,  sheriff  of  Fort  Creek  County,  sat  in  his 
home  at  Farewell  and  gnawed  his  nether  lip.  He  always 
gnawed  the  said  lip  when  worry  and  the  well-known 
carking  care  oppressed  his  being.  At  present  he  was 
very  much  oppressed.  The  governor  of  the  Territory 
had  written  him  a  letter  stating  in  the  most  courteous  of 
phraseology  that  as  a  sheriff  he  was  no  thief-catcher. 
The  governor  failed  to  understand  why  nothing  had  been 
done  to  make  burglary  and  stage-robbing  a  risky  means 
of  livelihood.  The  governor  viewed  with  alarm  the 
amazing  lethargy  obtaining  among  the  duly  constituted 
officers  of  the  law.  The  governor  begged  to  be  permitted 
to  point  out  that,  while  no  sheriff  had  as  yet  been  removed 
from  office  by  reason  of  incompetency,  it  could  be  done. 
The  above  were,  in  part,  the  remarks  of  the  governor. 

Jake  Rule  knew  that  he  and  his  deputy  had  done  their 
human  best  to  uphold  the  law  and  lay  by  the  heels  the 
transgressors  thereof.  But  —  the  governor  was  the  gov 
ernor,  and  he  undoubtedly  could  separate  Jake  Rule  and 
his  well-paid  office.  Fifteen  cents  per  mile  was  the  mile 
age  allowed,  and  expense  vouchers  were  never  questioned 
by  the  complaisant  treasurer. 

Jake  gloomily  shifted  his  chew  and  shot  an  accurate 
stream  of  tobacco  juice  into  the  cuspidor.  He  did  not 
know  what  to  do,  and  it  was  necessary  that  something  be 
done  —  and  quickly. 

Sounded  a  rapping  upon  the  door  and,  when  the  door 
was  opened,  there  stood  Telescope. 


The   Bargain  357 


"  Mornin',  Sher'f,"  said  the  half-breed,  and  he  looked 
meaningly  at  the  door  opening  into  the  kitchen.  "  You 
alone?  "' 

"  Shore.  The  wife's  gone  down  to  the  store  —  shoes 
for  the  kid  or  some  such  devilment." 

Telescope  entered,  carefully  closed  the  door,  leaned  a 
straight  back  against  it  and  hooked  his  thumbs  in  his  belt. 

"  You  wan'  for  catch  Red  Kane?  "  he  asked  quietly. 

The  sheriff,  who  had  resumed  his  seat,  sprang  out  of 
it  nimbly. 

"Where  is  he?"  he  cried,  lifting  down  his  belt  and 
six-shooter  from  the  peg  beside  the  ammunition  com 
pany's  calendar. 

"  No  hurry,"  said  Laguerre,  more  than  a  hint  of 
amusement  in  the  glint  of  his  black  eyes.  "  No  hurry 
'tall.  I  deed  not  say  w'ere  she  was,  me.  I  ask  you  was 
you  wan'  for  catch  heem." 

"  Is  this  a  joke?  "     Severely. 

"  I  have  no  time  for  joke.  Eef  you  wan'  for  catch 
heem,  you  come  wit'  me  —  un  leave  you'  gun  home." 

"Huh?" 

"  Red  wan'  for  talk  wit'  you  'fore  she  surrendair. 
Mebbeso  you  not  spleet  even  wit'  heem,  mebbeso  she  not 
surrendair.  Eef  you  have  not  de  gun,  you  can  not  stop 
heem." 

Laguerre  grinned  toothfully  at  the  astounded  sheriff. 

:t  You  got  a  gall !  "  exclaimed  Jake  Rule. 

The  half-breed  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Tak'  eet  or 
leave  eet,"  said  he  calmly.  "  You  do  not  know  w'ere  she 
ees,  Red  Kane.  You  have  not  arrest  heem.  S'pose  you 
talk  wit'  him,  s'pose  she  not  surrendair  you  lose  nothin'  — 
you  w'ere  you  ees  now.  S'pose  she  surrendair,  you  ween. 
You  come  wit'  me,  un  you  have  nothin'  for  lose  un  all 
for  ween." 

The  sheriff  saw  the  logic  in  the  argument. 

"  We-ell  —  "  he  began  hesitantly. 


358  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  You  leave  you'  gun,  Sher'f.  Eet  weel  be  all  right. 
I  weel  be  wit'  you.  Dere  weel  be  no  shootin'.  You  are 
safe  all  same  as  me.  Red,  she  say  so.  I  say  so.  Wat 
more  you  wan'  dan  dat  ?  " 

"  How  far  is  the  place  where  Red  is?"  probed  the 
sheriff. 

"  Two  mile  —  ten  mile  —  how  do  I  know  ?  "  parried 
Laguerre.  "  I  have  not  de  tape-measure  wit'  me." 

"  I'll  go  yuh,"  said  Sheriff  Rule. 

An  hour  later  Telescope  Laguerre  and  Sheriff  Rule 
rode  into  a  narrow  draw  beyond  the  western  end  of 
Indian  Ridge.  Here,  in  a  small  cottonwood  clump  con 
taining  a  spring,  a  gentleman  in  chaps  was  frying  bacon. 
He  and  another  gentleman,  the  latter  bound  in  a  seated 
posture  to  a  cottonwood  trunk,  were  eating  the  meat  as 
fast  as  it  was  cooked. 

The  gentleman  in  chaps  stood  up  at  sight  of  the  sheriff 
and  smiled  expansively.  He  balanced  the  frying-pan 
with  its  sizzling  contents  in  one  hand  and  indicated  with 
the  other  the  bound  gentleman. 

"  Meet  Art  Teller  of  Flipup,  Colorado,  Sheriff,"  said 
he.  "  On  the  seventeenth  in  the  afternoon  over  near 
Packer's  Peak,  this  territory,  he  slung  a  knife  at  a  gent 
named  Skinner  —  I  never  did  know  his  front  handle  — 
an'  rubbed  him  out.  Me'n'  Tom  are  the  witnesses.  If 
you  brought  along  a  pair  of  handcuffs,  I  dunno  but  he'll 
find  'em  more  comfortable  than  that  rope." 

The  sheriff  blinked  at  Red's  machine-gun  delivery  of 
the  unexpected.  He  made  no  motion  toward  his  saddle- 
pockets. 

"Where's  Tom?"  he  asked. 

"  Where  you  won't  find  him,"  grinned  Red. 

"  What  yuh  wanna  talk  to  me  about  ?  "  Jake  Rule  asked 
impatiently. 

"  Oh,  this  an'  that  —  a  lot  o'  things.  Have  a  piece  o' 
bacon?  ...  No?  Makes  all  the  more  for  Art  an'  me, 


The   Bargain  359 

then.  Tell  yuh  what,  bacon  shore  tastes  like  more  when 
yuh  been  livin'  off  squirrels  without  salt  for  three-four 
days.  Last  night,  when  I  got  to  a  salt  sack,  I  just  stuck 
my  paw  in,  glommed  on  to  a  handful  an'  ate  her  dry-so. 
Here,  Art,  old-timer,  here's  the  f ryin'-pan  where  you  can 
reach  her." 

"  Gimme  the  makin's,"  snarled  the  amiable  Art.  "  An' 
don't  look  so  joyous.  I  ain't  hung  yet." 

"That's  so.  Yo're  still  tied  to  that  tree,  ain't  yuh? 
Curious  they's  so  many  different  ways  to  use  a  rope, 
ain't  it?  Sheriff,  don't  yuh  think  throwin'  the  rope  over 
a  limb  an'  then  just  haulin'  away  is  every  bit  as  good  as  a 
reg'lar  gallows  an'  a  five-foot  drop?  " 

"  Tryin'  to  scare  me,  huh?  "  blared  Teller,  his  wizened 
face  wrinkling  with  his  best  sneer. 

"  I  didn't  ride  alia  way  out  here  to  gas  about  capital 
punishment,"  said  the  sheriff  severely.  "If  you've  got 
anythin'  to  say,  say  it." 

"Shore,  shore-ly,"  soothed  Red.  "While  Telescope 
stays  with  Art,  le's  you'n  me  go  off  a  li'l  ways  where  the 
atmosphere's  private.  Lordy  —  "as  the  sheriff  frowned 
—  "  what  yuh  balkin'  at?  What  can  I  do  to  yuh  that  I 
couldn't  'a'  done  ever  since  you  got  here?" 

As  if  he  knew  that  the  sheriff  would  follow,  Red 
turned  his  back  on  him  and  walked  out  of  the  cotton- 
wood  clump  toward  a  dense  growth  of  box-elders  a 
hundred  yards  down  the  draw.  Arrived  at  the  fringe 
of  the  bushes,  he  sat  down  cross-legged  and  built  himself 
a  cigarette. 

Two  minutes  later  the  sheriff  rode  up  and  dismounted. 
'  You  could  'a'  come  along  with  me,"  said  Red  gently. 

"  I  wanted  to  put  the  cuffs  on  the  prisoner  first,"  the 
sheriff  explained  sharply. 

"  I  didn't  know  whether  you'd  take  him  prisoner  or 
not  — at  first,"  drawled  Red.  "You  looked  kind  o' 
funny  —  at  first." 


360  Lynch   Lawyers 

"  You  can  take  it  I'm  still  lookin'  a  heap  funnier  than 
I  feel.  What's  the  layout?" 

Red  began  to  talk.  Before  he  had  been  speaking  five 
minutes,  the  sheriff's  boredly  apathetic  expression  had 
been  altered  to  one  of  the  liveliest  interest.  Red  talked 
on.  Occasionally  the  sheriff  would  cut  in  with  a  question. 
Often  he  would  tug  at  his  mustache  and  wink  his  eyes  — 
a  sure  sign  that  he  was  pleased  with  whatever  might  be 
toward. 

Red  ceased  speaking,  pulled  the  last  drag  from  his 
fourth  cigarette  and  pinched  out  the  stub.  He  did  not 
remove  his  eyes  from  the  sheriff's  face. 

"  How  about  it?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  could  be  done,"  said  Jake  Rule.  "  An'  then 
again  —  " 

"  I'm  takin'  that  chance.  But  I  ain't  worryin'.  It'll 
go  through  —  like  that." 

He  slapped  the  palm  of  one  hand  with  the  back  of  the 
other. 

"Yeah?" 

The  sheriff  pushed  back  his  hat  and  scratched  a  griz 
zled  head.  Now  that  the  tale  had  ended,  he  no  longer 
tugged  at  his  mustache  or  winked  his  eyes.  He  ap 
peared  doubtful. 

"  They's  only  one  room  an'  two  cells  in  the  jail," 
he  objected. 

"  Take  the  lady  into  yore  own  house  for  the  night," 
snapped  Red.  "  She  should  'a'  been  there  all  along  — 
if  you  had  to  arrest  her.  An'  I'm  sayin'  right  here 
that  was  one  fool  play." 

"  Speakin'  for  myself,"  said  the  sheriff  equably,  "  I 
agree  with  yuh.  But  when  Lumley  swore  out  the  war 
rant  I  hadda  serve  it.  You  can  see  that." 

"  I  know,  I  know.  Telescope  told  me  all  about  it. 
Which  it's  shore  healthy  for  Lumley  an'  his  outfit  they 
didn't  bother  her  outside  o'  that,  but  that's  enough. 


The   Bargain  361 

Me'n  them  ain't  through  yet  —  not  by  no  manner  o' 
means.  Take  the  lady  into  yore  house,  huh?  What 
say?" 

"Kind  o'  irregular." 

"  So's  the  whole  deal  irregular,  but,  if  you  wait  to 
do  it  regular,  whadda  you  get  ?  You  get  Hollister  — 
maybe.  'Cause  in  that  case  me'n'  Tom  are  a  heap 
likely  to  forget  a  whole  lot  of  evidence,  an'  that  won't 
help  yore  case  none." 

"  You  wouldn't  do  that."     Uncomfortably. 

"  Wouldn't  we  ?  We  would  in  a  minute.  An'  you 
better  believe  that  without  us  the  evidence  is  a  heap 
shacklin'.  You  do  it  the  irregular  way,  Sheriff  —  you 
gotta  remember  they  ain't  nothin'  strictly  illegal  about 
it  —  an'  glom  most  o'  the  outfit.  Make  a  name  for 
yuh,  Jake,  that  will.  Oughta  help  yuh  come  next 
election." 

"  You'll  get  all  the  credit." 

"Don't  you  fret;  I'll  give  you  half.  If  anybody 
asks  me  —  an'  I  won't  be  none  backward  about  tellin' 
'em  if  they  don't  —  you  an'  me  worked  her  out  between 
us.  I  guess  that  oughta  show  this  county  the  sheriff 
ain't  exactly  a  dumbhead  mummy." 

Sheriff  Jake  Rule  glanced  suspiciously  at  Red  Kane. 
But  the  latter's  expression  was  blank  to  innocence. 
The  sheriff  decided  that  Red  was  not,  in  the  mention 
of  the  qualified  mummy,  endeavoring  to  perpetrate  a 
blazer. 

"We-ell  — "   he  hedged. 

"  Now  lookit,  Jake,  if  yo're  balkin'  at  the  price,  you 
needn't  think  I  dug  out  the  inside  of  all  this  for  fun. 
When  I  went  south  to  riddle  out  the  Lenton  killin',  I 
wasn't  even  thinkin'  of  bringin'  the  Farewell  express 
robbery  into  camp.  But,  now  that  I've  got  it  all  ready 
for  you  to  run  the  brand  on,  I  want  what's  right,  an' 
yo're  the  gent  to  give  it  to  me,  yuh  bet  yuh." 


362  Lynch   Lawyers 

The  sheriff  pondered  this  a  moment. 

"  Aw  right,"  he  said  presently,  "  if  it  works  out  at 
the  hearin'  just  like  you  say  it  will,  I'll  fix  it  up  with  the 
judge  about  them  warrants.  He'll  do  what  I  tell  him,  I 
guess." 

:*  Yes,  I  guess  he  will,  seein'  as  you  got  him  elected." 

"  Alia  same,  it's  a  hold-up,  Red,"  fiddled  the  sheriff. 
'  Yo're  a-turnin'  this  express  robbery  to  yore  own  use." 

"  Shore  I  am,"  Red  corroborated  heartily.  "  What 
did  yuh  think  I  was  doin'  with  it?  " 

To  this  the  sheriff  could  not  arrange  a  satisfactory 
reply.  He  settled  his  hat  more  firmly  on  his  head  and 
spat  upon  the  grass.  "  I  guess  we  can  do  it,"  was  his 
heavy  pronouncement.  "  Shore,"  he  added,  throwing  out 
his  chest  a  trifle,  "  you  an'  me,  between  us  we  can  swing 
it." 

"Want  me  to  go  over  it  again?"  inquired  Red,  sup 
pressing  with  difficulty  a  quirk  at  the  corner  of  his  mouth. 

"  No."  The  sheriff  shook  his  head  and  stood  up.  "  I 
got  a  good  memory  myself,"  he  added.  "  Soon  as  they 
get  in  with  Hudson,  I'll  let  you  know.  Naw,  you  bet  I 
won't  forget  to  bring  Kansas." 

"  We'll  be  there,  me  an'  Art,"  said  Red  Kane. 

When  the  sheriff  had  ridden  out  of  the  draw,  Tom, 
dragging  a  rifle,  crawled  out  of  the  box-elders  within  ten 
feet  of  where  the  officer  and  his  brother  had  held  their 
conversation.  He  joined  his  brother  in  the  cotton  wood 
clump  and  poked  him  in  the  ribs  with  a  hard  forefinger. 

"  '  You  an'  me/  "  Tom  quoted,  "  '  between  us  we  can 
swing  it.'  Oh,  yes,  indeedy.  Bright  feller,  li'l  Jakey 
Rule  is.  You  watch  yore  eye,  Reddy,  now  you  hear  me 
talkin',  or  you'll  find  yoreself  turnin'  handsprings  on  yore 
ear.  Jake  may  shuffle  the  deck  too  much  .  .  .  Huh  ?  No, 
not  while  I  got  my  health,  thank  you  most  to  death.  I 
told  you  I  had  my  own  notion  about  givin'  up.  I  still 
got  the  notion.  If  anythin'  should  happen,  I  wanna  be 


The   Bargain  363 

where  I  can  lay  hold  of  a  gun  prompt  an'  plenty.  Yessir, 
that's  me." 

"  I  weel  stay  een  town,"  said  Telescope,  "  un  I  weel 
keep  de  eye  peel,  me.  S'pose  dem  88  boy  een  town. 
Dey  weel  raise  hell,  bien  sur." 

"  No  need  for  you  to  mix  into  this,  Telescope,"  said 
Red.  "  You  told  me  comin'  here  the  88  hadn't  locked 
horns  with  the  Bar  S  on  my  account  yet.  Let  'em  alone, 
an'  it'll  all  damp  out  fine  an'  dandy.  It's  me  an'  Tom 
they  want,  an'  they  won't  get  me  while  Jake  can  lift  a 
gun.  An'  Tom  can  take  care  of  himself." 

"  Oh,  shore,  Tom  can  take  care  of  himself,"  grunted 
the  gentleman  in  question.  "  Tom's  got  it  easy.  He 
won't  have  nothin'  to  do  but  dodge  over  the  landscape, 
look  forty  ways  to  once,  keep  out  o'  sight  an'  find  out  all 
that's  goin'  on  in  town.  It's  a  cinch." 

"  Look  what  I  gotta  do ! "  cried  Red  indignantly. 
"I  —  "  He  broke  off,  his  eye  caught  by  the  expression 
of  intense  interest  on  the  face  of  Mr.  Teller.  "  No,"  he 
continued  in  a  more  restrained  tone,  "  I  guess  I  ain't 
talkin'  to-day  no  more." 

On  the  morrow,  between  noon  and  one  o'clock,  Jake 
Rule  came  galloping  on  a  lathered  horse,  shouting  that 
John  Hudson  had  arrived.  A  few  minutes  behind  Jake 
rode  Kansas  Casey.  The  latter  greeted  Red  with  great 
cordiality. 

"  Foxed  me  good,  didn't  yuh  ? "  said  he,  assisting 
Red  to  boost  Art  Teller  across  a  saddle.  "  What  did 
yuh  do  with  yore  trail  after  yuh  left  the  Empire  — 
eat  it?" 

"  We  didn't  have  much  else  to  eat,"  grinned  Red. 

Within  the  hour  Farewell  was  edified  by  the  sight  of 
its  efficient  sheriff  bringing  in  a  prisoner.  The  prisoner 
was  Red  Kane.  He  was  hatless  —  he  had  for  the  sake 
of  atmosphere  stuffed  his  hat  into  a  cantina  —  his  hair 
was  f  rowsily  unkempt ;  he  had  not  shaved  since  the  Lord 


364  Lynch    Lawyers 

knew  when,  and  on  his  wrists  sparkled  a  new  and  shiny 
pair  of  handcuffs. 

To  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Jake  and  his  prisoner  the 
town's  inhabitants  drew  as  steel  filings  to  the  magnet. 
Among  the  first  to  arrive  were  Usher,  Billy  Bruff  and 
Lumley.  They  found  Red  arguing  violently  with  the 
sheriff. 

"  I  want  a  hearin'  right  now,"  he  was  insisting. 

"  You'll  get  it  when  I  get  good  an'  ready,"  returned 
the  sheriff. 

"  Now,  right  now !  "  bawled  Red.  "  This  here's  a  in 
justice.  I  ain't  gonna  stay  in  no  jail  so's  you  can  make 
money  a-boardin'  me.  Nawsir,  I  ain't.  I  want  a  hearin', 
an'  I  want  it  immediate." 

"  You'll  maybe  get  stretched  immediate,  young  feller," 
called  Billy  Bruff,  oozing  triumph  from  every  pore. 

"  I  got  a  rope,"  said  Lumley,  his  eyes  gloatingly  ven 
omous. 

Red,  looking  over  the  shoulders  of  the  crowd,  per 
ceived  on  the  outskirts  the  long  horse-face  and  high  hat 
of  Bradley  Usher.  The  face  was  expressionless.  The 
jaws  worked  squirrel-wise.  As  their  eyes  met,  Mr. 
Usher  half  smiled  and  passed  a  thumb  across  his  lean 
throat. 

Telescope  Laguerre,  a  yard  in  Mr.  Usher's  rear, 
hitched  up  his  chaps  and  stared  woodenly.  Red  dropped 
his  eyes  to  the  faces  of  Bruff  and  Lumley. 

"  I  hear  you  two  made  quite  a  picture,"  said  he,  "  with 
yore  hands  tied  behind  yuh  an'  yore  two  heads  jammed 
tight  under  the  sash." 

"  I'm  still  laughin'  last,"  flung  back  Lumley.  "  What 
say,  gents,  we  take  this  sport  over  to  the  nearest  cotton- 
wood?" 

It  does  not  matter  what  manner  of  man  he  may  be,  a 
citizen,  if  he  wishes,  makes  friends.  The  Rock  County 
men  had,  during  their  sojourn  in  Farewell,  attached  to 


The   Bargain  365 

themselves  by  the  easy  ties  of  drinking  and  gambling 
certain  members  of  the  loose-living  caste.  These  indi 
viduals  received  with  acclaim  the  suggestion  of  Mr. 
Lumley. 

The  sheriff  dropped  his  hand  to  his  gun-butt. 

"  This  prisoner  goes  to  jail,"  said  he.  "  Anybody 
thinkin'  different  an'  puttin'  it  in  the  form  of  a  motion 
goes  to  the  graveyard." 

Bill  Derr  pushed  his  energetic  way  through  the  crowd. 
He  was  followed  by  Bert  Kinzie  and  three  of  Bert's  com 
rades  of  the  88  —  to  wit,  Bill  Allen  of  the  freckled  face, 
Slim  Mack  and  Alonzo  Peters,  the  latter  known  to  his 
friends  as  "  Crazy  Lonzo."  In  the  fight  at  the  Sweet- 
water  ranch-house  Red  Kane  had  perforated  Slim  Mack, 
and  Tom  Kane  had  at  other  times  and  places  drilled  holes 
in  both  Bill  Allen  and  Crazy  Lonzo.  But  now  Slim  Mack 
was  grinning  cheerily  at  Red,  Bill  Allen  was  shouting 
encouragement  and  Crazy  Lonzo  was  swearing  that  what 
the  sheriff  said  went,  and  he,  Alonzo  Peters,  would  be 
proud  to  see  that  it  went. 

Red  Kane  felt  a  warm  glow  expand  within  him.  It 
was  good  to  find  friends  —  especially  in  that  quarter. 
Red  Kane  had  cast  his  bread  upon  the  waters  in  that  dark 
hotel  dining-room,  and  now  it  had  returned  to  him  four 
fold. 

"  Heart  up,  Reddy  lad !  "  bawled  a  voice  over  the 
shoulder  of  Billy  Bruff.  "  You  got  friends,  an'  don't  yuh 
forget  it !  " 

Mr.  Bruff,  turning  to  frown  down  his  enemy's  well- 
wisher,  found  himself  gazing  into  the  hard-bitten  coun 
tenance  of  Alike  Flynn,  the  peg-legged  half-owner  of  the 
Blue  Pigeon  store.  Mr.  Bruff  turned  back  to  frown  else 
where  and  looked  into  the  face  of  his  chief,  Tom  Lumley. 
Billy  Bruff  asked  a  question  with  his  eyes.  Lumley  shook 
his  head  slightly. 

The  sheriff,  who,  with  his  prisoner,  had  remained  on 


366  Lynch    Lawyers 

horseback  in  front  of  the  jail  till  the  crowd  was  packed 
solidly  between  it  and  them,  raised  his  hand. 

"  Li'l  air,  gents,  li'l  air,"  he  cried  good-naturedly. 
"  Move  both  ways  an'  lemme  get  this  prisoner  into  the 

jug." 

"  Say,  don't  I  get  no  hearin'  ?  "  protested  Red  in  his 
loudest  yell. 

"  You  don't  need  no  hearin',"  snapped  the  sheriff. 
"Yo're  guilty!  Shut  up!" 

"  Take  more'n  you  to  make  me,  old  skimmerindink.  I 
know  my  rights  as  a  citizen  of  this  territory.  I  want  a 
hearin',  an'  I'm  gonna  have  a  hearin',  an'  you  can  stick 
a  pin  in  that." 

"  Why  don't  yuh  give  him  his  hearin',  Sheriff?  "  asked 
Bill  Derr. 

"Shore,  give  it  to  him,"  vociferously  seconded  the 
88  boys  and  Mike  Flynn. 

"  It  ain't  regular,"  hesitated  the  sheriff. 

"Aw,  what's  the  odds?"  said  Bill  Derr.  "  Dolan's 
sober  to-day,  an'  to-morrow's  Sunday,  an'  Monday  he'll 
be  drunk.  Give  Red  what  he  wants  for  once  in  his  young 
life.  He'll  have  long  enough  to  stay  in  jail  till  the  grand 
jury  indicts  him." 

So  it  was  settled,  and  Bert  Kinzie  went  off  to  find 
Dolan,  the  storekeeper  who  was  Justice  of  the  Peace,  the 
man  who  had  signed  the  warrants  for  Red  Kane  and  his 
brother.  In  the  meantime  Red,  minus  the  handcuffs,  was 
deposited  in  one  of  the  calaboose  cells.  It  was  the  very 
cell  in  which  Ben  Lenton  had  spent  a  few  hours.  He 
wondered  how  Ben  was  getting  along  —  in  the  wild  places 
beyond  the  Three  Sisters.  He  smiled  slowly  and  lim 
bered  up  his  cramped  wrists.  He  thought  of  Dot  Lenton 
and  ceased  to  smile.  She  had  been  held  in  the  jail,  per 
haps  in  this  same  cell.  Her  eyes  had,  it  might  be,  looked 
through  the  grimy  pane  of  the  tiny  window. 

Her  eyes  —  how  they  had  used  to  sparkle.     And  a  man 


The   Bargain  367 

could  look  down  into  their  dark  depths  for  miles  and 
miles  and  then  not  see  that  mysterious  thing,  the  heart 
of  a  maid.  To  hear  her  say  that  she  loved  him,  to  kiss 
her  on  the  mouth,  he  would  have  sold  himself  to  the  devil 
and  damned  his  soul  to  hell  everlasting  and  counted  it  a 
pleasure. 

To  please  her  he  would  have  stolen,  lied,  killed,  cheated 
at  cards,  or,  for  that  matter,  run  through  the  entire  list 
of  deviltry  eschewed  by  honest  men  without  the  slightest 
hesitation.  That  is  how  he  loved  her.  Nearly  all  women 
and  a  few  men  love  their  beloveds  like  that.  Red  Kane 
was  one  of  the  few  men. 

And  after  all,  even  now  she  might  not  know  her  mind 
or,  rather,  her  heart.  Perhaps  she  did  know  it,  and  her 
answer  would  be  negative.  The  state  of  being  actually 
in  jail  was  certainly  spinning  Red's  imagination  to  the 
limit.  He  stared  at  the  wall  in  dumb  misery.  At  least 
he  was  spared  the  supreme  agony.  He  was  sure  that 
there  was  no  one  else. 

There  was  a  sound  of  one  stirring  in  the  next  cell. 
That  would  be  Hudson.  The  man  began  to  swear  in 
low,  dispassionate  tones.  Red's  mouth  stretched  into  a 
hard  smile.  He  sincerely  trusted  that  before  the  day's 
sun  set  John  Hudson  would  have  reason  to  swear  with 
the  heartiest  abandon. 


CHAPTER   THIRTY-SIX 

THE    HEARING 

CAME  a  sudden  shuffling  in  the  back  room  and  the  clack 
of  conversation  and  the  screaking  and  thumping  of  chairs 
being  picked  up  and  set  down.  The  voice  of  one  speaking 
loudly  cut  across  the  clatter,  and  the  voice  was  that  of 
Dolan. 

"  Might's  well  bring  Red  out,  Sheriff,"  he  was  saying. 

At  one  end  of  the  room  the  floor  rose  in  a  jog  a  foot 
high.  Upon  this  platform  were  a  table  and  two  chairs. 
Dolan  occupied  the  chair  behind  the  table.  Red  crossed 
the  platform  to  the  other  chair,  the  wire-trussed  chair  at 
the  end  of  the  platform,  and  slumped  down  into  it  with 
his  most  chap-fallen  air.  It  was  no  part  of  his  plan  to 
display  confidence  at  first.  Jake  Rule  took  position  be 
side  Red  —  between  him  and  the  window. 

Red  looked  furtively  over  the  crowding  audience.  The 
place  was  packed.  In  the  front  row  of  spectators  were 
Sheriff  Tom  Lumley  and  Deputy  Billy  Bruff.  Surround 
ing  this  precious  pair  on  three  sides  were  Bill  Derr,  the 
four  88  boys,  and  peg-legged  Mike  Flynn.  The  Farewell 
friends  of  the  Colorado  men  were  as  close  to  the  latter  as 
they  could  squeeze,  but  they  could  not  jostle  their  way 
past  Bill  Derr  and  his  partisans  without  a  fight.  And  a 
fight  was  not  to  be  thought  of. 

Behind  the  front  line,  wedged  in  among  other  of  his 
friends,  were  Piney  Jackson  and  that  fleshy  mountain, 
Bill  Lainey.  Red's  conscience  smote  him  somewhat  for 
that  he  had  been  forced  on  the  night  of  the  jail-break  to 


The   Hearing  369 

knock  Mr.  Lainey  cold.  But  what  else  could  he  have 
done?  Circumstances  had  forced  his  hand  or  rather  his 
fist.  He  grinned  sheepishly  at  Bill  and  Piney  and  nodded. 

Red's  roving  gaze  did  not  at  first  pick  up  the  long  and 
slithy  countenance  of  Mr.  Bradley  Usher.  In  a  moment 
he  located  the  money-lender's  glossy  black  pate  behind 
the  broad  Stetsons  of  two  punchers  from  the  Double 
Diamond  A.  Usher  had  removed  his  tall  hat  and  was 
engaged  in  the  ceremony  of  purveying  himself  a  chew 
from  the  crown.  Red  was  pleased  to  observe  that  Tele 
scope  Laguerre  stood  directly  in  the  rear  of  Mr.  Usher. 
This  was  as  it  should  be. 

"  Say !  "  Justice  Dolan  cried  irritably.  "  Whatsa 
matter  with  you,  Red?  I've  done  spoke  to  you  four 
times.  Come  alive." 

"  Why,  shore,"  Red  said  hastily.  "  I  musta  been 
thinkin'  o'  somethin'  else." 

"  I  guess  you  musta.  Not  that  she  makes  no  difference 
to  me.  Not  a  bit.  I  was  just  askin'  yuh  if  yuh  had 
anythin'  partic'lar  to  say  before  I  hold  you  for  the  grand 
jury.  Seems  like  a  plain  open-an'-shut  case,  Red." 

:<  Yeah,"  drawled  Red.  "  Three  witnesses  ain't  they 
—  Lumley,  Bruff  an'  Buck  Saylor?  " 

"  Yep." 

Dolan  nodded  his  head  and  polished  the  end  of  a  red- 
veined  nose. 

"  I  don't  see  Buck  Saylor  anywhere,"  complained  Red. 

Ensued  a  commotion  to  the  left  of  Mr.  Usher,  and  Buck 
Saylor  poked  his  head  over  the  shoulder  of  a  stage- 
station  hostler. 

"  I'm  right  here,"  called  Buck  Saylor  with  what  seemed 
unnecessary  vehemence. 

So  was  Tom  Dowling  of  the  Cross-in-a-box  right  there 
on  Mr.  Saylor's  left  hand.  On  the  other  side  of  the  ex 
press  agent  loomed  the  tall  form  of  Shorty  Rumbold. 

The  woebegone,  furtive  manner  fell  as  a  cloak  from 


370  Lynch   Lawyers 

Red  Kane.  He  sat  up  and  shuffled  his  feet  and  rubbed 
his  hands  together  with  huge  satisfaction  and  showed  his 
teeth  in  a  tremendous  grin.  He  quite  resembled  an  ami 
able  wolf. 

"  This,"  he  said  clearly,  "  is  somethin'  like.  Yes,  in- 
deedy.  Judge,  yore  Honor,  I'll  begin  at  the  beginning 
huh?" 

"  That's  a  good  place  to  start,"  nodded  Dolan.  "  I'll 
swear  yuh  first." 

"  Just  a  minute,"  cut  in  Tom  Lumley.  "  They's  a 
hold-up  in  the  left-hand  cell.  Red  Kane  come  out  o'  the 
other.  I  wanna  know  what's  come  o'  Dot  Lenton." 

"You  do,  do  yuh?"  rapped  out  Jake  Rule.  "Well, 
don't  you  worry  none  about  her.  She's  doin'  right  well 
where  she  is,  an'  where  is  just  none  o'  yore  business." 

"  I  don't  like  this,"  Lumley  exclaimed.  "  Somethin' 
shady  goin'  on.  What  you  done  with  her,  that's  what  I 
wanna  know  ?  What  kind  of  a  blazer  you  tryin'  to  run 
on  me?  " 

"  Where  is  she,  Jake?  "  queried  Dolan. 

"  In  my  house  with  my  wife.  I'm  sheriff,  an'  I'm  re 
sponsible  for  her.  I  don't  need  nobody  to  tell  me  how  to 
take  care  o'  my  prisoners." 

"  Huh,"  snorted  Tom  Lumley. 

"  I  meant  you  when  I  said  '  nobody  ',"  explained  Sher 
iff  Rule. 

"  I'll  remember,"  purred  Lumley,  dropping  an  eyelid. 
"  S'pose  we  sift  along  with  our  sewin'-circle." 

"  An'  that'll  be  about  all  from  you,"  struck  in  Dolan, 
cracking  the  table  with  the  barrel  of  his  six-shooter. 
"  Red,  the  bridle's  off.  Hop  to  it.  Here,  wait  a  shake. 
Hold  up  yore  right  hand." 

Red,  having  been  duly  sworn,  crossed  one  leg  over  the 
other  and  pulled  the  makings  from  the  upper  right-hand 
pocket  of  his  vest. 

"  Y'all  remember,  yore  Honor  an'  gents,"  he  began, 


The   H  earing  371 

rolling  the  paper  over  the  tobacco,  "  how  fifty  thousand 
dollars  was  stole  out  of  the  express  office  awhile  ago." 

"  What's  that  gotta  do  with  yore  turnin'  Ben  Lenton 
loose !  "  struck  in  Lumley. 

"  I  ain't  in  the  habit  o'  speakin'  twice,"  warned  Dolan. 

Lumley  spat  upon  the  floor.     He  said  nothing  aloud. 

"  Forty  thousand  dollars  was  for  the  new  bank  in  Para 
dise  Bend,"  continued  Red,  dwelling  lovingly  on  the  fig 
ures,  "  an'  ten  thousand  was  consigned  to  Lanpher  of  the 
88.  My  li'l  black  hoss  was  stole  at  the  same  time  along 
with  my  brother  Tom's  wagon  an'  his  best  team  o'  mules. 
We  got  the  wagon  an'  mules  back,  but  not  the  hoss  — 
then. 

"  Li'l  while  later  I  picked  up  a  knife  with  a  busted  blade 
an'  a  short  bit  wedged  into  her  between  the  express  office 
an'  the  company's  corral.  I  pried  out  the  short  bit,  an' 
scratched  on  her  was  the  initials  B  L.  The  dime  was 
bored  near  the  edge,  pocket  piece  like.  The  knife  was 
marked  B  L,  too." 

Here  Red  took  time  to  light  his  cigarette  and  inhale 
deeply. 

"  That  same  day,"  he  went  on,  "  Old  Salt  sat  down  on 
the  bench  outside  the  door  of  the  express  office.  He  leaned 
his  shoulder  against  the  jamb  an'  snags  himself  on  a 
piece  of  a  knife-blade  stuck  in  the  door  jamb.  I  told 
Buck,  an'  he  pulled  her  out  with  a  pair  o'  pliers.  With 
out  Buck  noticin',  I  fitted  together  the  broken  blade  in  the 
knife  I  found  with  the  piece  from  the  door  jamb,  an'  they 
fitted  fine.  I  didn't  say  nothin'  about  what  I'd  found  — 
then." 

"Why  not?  "asked  Dolan. 

"  Wanted  to  find  out  more  before  springin'  what  I 
knowed,"  was  Red's  not  too  truthful  reply.  But  it 
sounded  sufficiently  plausible. 

"  Yuh  remember,  yore  Honor  an'  gents,  how,  when  Lan 
pher  tried  to  put  off  the  robbery  onto  Ben  Lenton,  Pickles 


372  Lyncji   Lawyers 

Dill  an'  Spunk  Lenn  backed  him  up  strong.  You  keep 
a-rememberin'  that.  It'll  come  in  handy  later. 

"  I  was  out  at  the  Lenton  place  when  Lanpher  made  his 
break.  I'm  sort  of  recoverin'  from  that  riot  when  I  lost 
the  marked  knife  an'  dime  out  o'  my  pocket.  Young 
Sam  Brown  Galloway  picks  'em  up.  The  sheriff  hears 
about  it  an'  comes  prancin'  out,  him  an'  Kansas,  to  see 
whether  the  knife-blade  Buck  pulled  out  of  the  office 
door-jamb  fits  or  not. 

"  She  didn't  fit.  The  busted-off  piece  was  part  of  a 
whole  lot  bigger  knife.  Now,  yore  Honor,  that  piece 
when  Buck  pulled  her  out  of  the  doorway  fitted  fine. 
When  the  sheriff  tried  her  at  the  Lenton  ranch-house  she 
didn't  fit.  The  knife  an'  dime  belonged  to  John  Hudson, 
a  gent  who's  wanted  down  in  Lang  County.  Now,  yore 
Honor,  I'd  like  to  know  why  Buck  Saylor  tried  to  shield 
John  Hudson  by  substitutin'  a  different  blade  for  the 
piece  I  found." 

"  I  never  did  no  such  thing!  "  cried  Buck  Saylor  hotly. 
"  That  blade  —  " 

"  What  yuh  so  pale  for  then  ? "  interrupted  Red. 
"  You  look  kind  o'  sick  to  me." 

"  Look  here,  Judge !  "  shouted  Buck  Saylor,  "  if  this 
feller's  accusin'  me  of  anythin',  I  wanna  know  it.  I  want 
him  to  make  a  charge  against  me.  This  here  beatin' 
round  the  bush  don't  go." 

"  I  ain't  beatin'  round  no  bushes,"  contradicted  Red. 
"  I'm  just  statin'  facts  an'  askin'  question,  thassall. 
Lordy,  man  alive,  can't  I  ask  a  simple  li'l  question  without 
Buckhavin'  a  fit?" 

"  You've  asked  yore  question,"  said  the  justice. 
"  G'on." 

"  Might  as  well.  Don't  look  like  I  was  gonna  get  no 
answer." 

"Yore  Honor,  this  ain't  got  a  thing  to  do  with  the 
charge  against  Red  Kane,"  protested  Buck  violently. 


The    Hearing  373 

"  What  he's  sayin'  is  foolishness,  an'  it  ain't  gettin'  no 
where." 

"  You  only  think  it  ain't  gettin'  nowhere,  Buck,"  re 
turned  Red  with  the  greatest  good  humor  in  the  world. 
"  You  don't  see  the  end  of  the  trail  yet,  thassall.  Lemme 
go  at  it  my  own  way.  I  may  be  slow,  but  I'll  get  there  at 
the  finish,  an',  when  I  do,  you'll  be  with  me.  Yessir, 
you'll  be  right  along  all  same  wheels  on  a  wagon." 

Red  laughed  loudly  and  leered  at  Buck  Saylor.  The 
express  agent  grunted,  blew  his  nose,  and  coughed.  He 
seemed  to  have  a  retching  in  the  throat. 

"  You  see.  Buck,"  pursued  the  ruthless  Mr.  Kane,  "  I'm 
naturally  interested  in  you.  Yo're  one  of  the  gents  swore 
out  my  warrant.  Yo're  a  fly  in  the  ointment.  Feel 
sticky  yet,  Buck?  Nemmine,  you  will." 

"  Stop  it,  Red,"  admonished  the  justice.  "  Keep  a- 
travelin'." 

"  I  will,"  nodded  Red.  "  You  know  how  Lumley, 
Billy  Bruff  an'  Dune  Rouse  come  up  here  from  Flipup, 
Colorado,  to  arrest  Ben  Lenton  for  the  murder  of  his 
brother  an'  the  stealin'  o'  thirty  thousand  of  the  brother's 
money.  How'd  they  know  he  was  here,  huh  ?  Who  told 
'em?  Yore  Honor,  while  I  was  sick  at  the  Lenton  ranch- 
house,  a  gent  named  Hollister  stops  for  a  meal  there. 
Three  days  after  that  meal  Hollister  was  in  Blossom  on 
the  railroad  sendin'  a  telegram  to  Sheriff  Tom  Lumley  at 
Flipup,  Colorado.  The  telegram  says  : 

"  Located  L  at  K  C  ranch-house  near  Sweetwater 
Mountain  east  of  Farewell. 

"  This  telegram  was  signed  H." 

"  Howja  find  this  out?  "  asked  Dolan. 

"  Operator  at  Blossom  told  me.  I  stopped  there  a  few 
days  ago.  Whatsa  matter,  Lumley?  Got  a  pain  or 
somethin'  ?  Nothin'  serious,  I  hope.  Shore,  yore  Honor, 
right  away.  Well,  sir,  them  three  fellers  from  Flipup 
gloms  on  to  Ben  Lenton,  an'  me'n  Tom  starts  for  Flipup 


374  Lynch   Lawyers 

to  find  out  the  truth  about  that  murder.  Ben  Lenton 
wasn't  the  man  to  kill  his  own  brother,  but  Sheriff  Tom 
Lumley  an'  them  two  deputies,  Billy  Bruff  an'  Dune 
Rouse,  was  hell-roarers  from  way  back.  A  li'l  thing  like 
murder  wouldn't  bother  them  none.  I'd  heard  enough 
about  them  to  be  dead  shore  o'  that. 

"  On  our  way  south  one  night  four  riders  passed  with 
out  seein'  us.  One  of  em's  hoss  stumbled.  He  cussed, 
the  man  did.  It  was  Hollister's  voice.  Farther  south, 
over  back  of  Scatterpine  Ridge  south  of  the  Broken  Hills, 
we  heard  a  shot.  Li'l  later  we  seen  Buck  Saylor  comin' 
through  the  woods.  He  didn't  see  us.  Buck  looked 
average  nervous.  We  watched  him  get  his  hoss  an'  ride 
back  out  o'  the  woods  to  a  li'l  bunch  o'  cottonwoods  at  a 
spring.  He  stops  there  a  shake  lookin'  at  somethin'  on 
the  ground.  Then  he  goes  on.  Bimeby,  after  he's  good 
an'  gone,  we  went  out  to  the  spring.  There's  Pickles  Dill, 
a  .45-90  through  an'  through  him,  dead  as  Julius  Caesar. 
The  front  o'  Pickles'  shirt  was  all  burnt.  Whoever  had 
killed  him  had  held  pretty  close  to  Pickles.  Looked  like 
Pickles  hadn't  been  expectin'  it.  Looked  like  Pickles 
musta  been  sort  o'  caught  out  on  a  limb." 

"  It's  a  lie ! "  boomed  Buck  Saylor,  pale  to  his  trem 
bling  lips. 

"  Own  up  now,"  urged  Red,  turning  on  Buck.  "  Wasn't 
Pickles  the  man  killed  yore  bloodhounds?  They  was 
took  away  so's  they  wouldn't  do  no  barkin'  the  night  of 
the  robbery,  an'  rather  than  be  bothered  feedin'  em'  out 
there  at  Squaw  Draw  an'  afraid  to  leave  'em  tied  'cause 
they  might  break  loose  an'  take  up  the  trail,  Pickles 
downed  'em.  Wasn't  that  the  way  of  it,  Buck  ?  " 

"  You —  you  can't  prove  it,"  stuttered  the  badly-rattled 
express  agent. 

"  I  don't  need  to  prove  it.  Yore  face  is  too  easy  to 
read.  It  don't  matter  none  anyway.  She's  only  a  detail. 
But  the  murder  of  Pickles  is  a  cat  with  another  tail.  Me 


The   Hearing  375 

an'  Tom  can  prove  that,  you  bet.  An'  I  can  get  hold  of 
Tom  any  time  she's  necessary." 

"In  this  Territory,"  pronounced  Judge  Dolan  with 
heavy  emphasis,  "  they  has  to  be  two  witnesses  or  satis 
factory  circumstantial  evidence,  or  both,  before  a  warrant 
can  be  issued  on  the  charge  of  murder.  I'll  say  right 
here  the  evidence  so  far  is  a  heap  satisfactory.  Just  as 
soon  as  this  hearin'  is  over  I'll  issue  a  warrant  for  Buck 
Say  lor.  Pendin'  the  servin'  of  said  warrant,  the  sheriff 
will  take  charge  of  Buck  Saylor's  person." 

The  sheriff  left  the  platform  and  began  to  worm  his 
way  through  the  crowd  toward  Buck  Saylor.  The  latter 
hesitated  till  he  saw  Jake  Rule  actually  start  in  his  direc 
tion  ;  then  he  attempted  to  escape.  He  may  have  covered 
six  inches  of  the  distance  to  the  door.  But  it  is  ex 
tremely  doubtful.  It  was  the  gigantic  Shorty  Rumbold 
who  pinioned  his  arms  to  his  sides  and  held  him  fast,  and 
it  was  Tom  Dowling,  of  the  Cross-in-a-box,  who  removed 
his  six-shooter. 

The  sheriff  snapped  a  pair  of  handcuffs  upon  the  wrists 
of  the  madly  protesting  express  agent,  shoved  him  into 
the  cell  so  lately  vacated  by  Red  Kane  and  locked  the 
door. 

This  situation  brought  to  a  successful  close,  Red  re 
sumed  his  tale. 

"  We  searched  Pickles,"  said  he,  "  an'  we  found  in  the 
leg  of  one  boot  two  gold  watches,  in  the  other  boot  four 
hundred  an'  fifty  dollars  in  gold.  We  all  know  Pickles 
Dill,  yore  Honor.  Nobody  never  seen  him  work  anythin' 
but  his  friends,  an'  he  wasn't  so  lucky  at  cards.  He  never 
bought  them  gold  watches,  that's  a  cinch.  We  scouted 
round  that  camp,  Tom  an'  me,  an'  we  found  the  tracks 
of  a  pair  of  mighty  small  boots.  Hollister  wears  small 
boots.  We  found  the  tracks  of  a  hoss  packin'  a  bar  shoe 
on  the  near  fore.  Hollister  rode  a  hoss  like  that.  I  seen 
Piney  Jackson  shoe  him  with  a  bar  shoe  myself. 


376  Lynch    Lawyers 

"  This  wasn't  all  we  found  neither.  She  ain't  five 
minutes  after  when  my  li'l  black  hoss  —  the  one  stolen 
out  o'  Tom's  corral  the  night  of  the  express  robbery  — 
my  li'l  black  hoss,  I  say,  come  driftin'  out  of  the  woods 
close  by.  An'  him  an'  the  hoss  of  Pickles  Dill  was 
wearin'  the  same  kind  of  figure-of-eight  hobbles.  This 
sort  of  links  up  Pickles  an'  Hollister  on  the  express  rob 
bery.  Yuh  can  see  that  easy. 

"  After  that  Tom  an'  me  went  on  to  Flipup,  Colorado. 
One  or  two  li'l  things  happened  there  had  awful  rough 
edges.  We  pulled  through  somehow,  an'  one  evenin', 
when  a  hotel  landlord  named  Skinner  an'  us  was  in  the 
office  of  Bradley  Usher,  who  came  slidin'  in  but  Hollister 
an'  asks  for  Brad  Usher,  who's  away  at  the  time.  I'm 
some  took  myself  with  Hollister's  hair  which  was  yaller 
last  time  I  seen  it  an'  black  at  the  roots  now.  One  thing 
led  to  another,  an'  we  had  to  reason  with  Hollister. 
Durin'  the  argument  an'  while  he  was  senseless,  we 
looked  him  over,  an'  they's  a  knife  scar  on  his  right  arm 
between  shoulder  an'  elbow  correspondin'  to  the  scar 
carried  by  the  much-wanted  sport,  John  Hudson.  Like 
wise  he's  packin'  in  his  vest  pocket  the  li'l  carvin'  of  a 
Injun  girl's  head,  which  same  head  is  a  habit  with  Hud 
son  seemin'ly.  Bill  Derr's  got  one  Hudson  carved,  an' 
they  was  a  larger  one  settin'  on  Brad  Usher's  desk.  I 
was  gonna  bring  it,  but  I  couldn't  find  it  when  I  come 
away." 

"  That's  a  lie,"  declared  Usher  coldly,  speaking  for  the 
first  time  since  the  beginning  of  the  hearing.  "  I  never 
knowed  anybody  named  Hollister  or  Hudson  in  my  whole 
life.  An'  I  never  had  no  Injun  head  layin'  round  loose 
on  my  desk  neither.  Injun  heads !  " 

"  Well,  now,  I  forgot,"  Red  hastened  to  say.  "  I  did 
find  that  Injun  head,  after  all." 

He  pulled  it  from  his  vest  pocket  and  held  it  up  for  all 
to  see.  From  another  pocket  he  produced  a  second  head. 


The   Hearing  377 

"  Here's  the  one  Hudson  had  in  his  own  pocket  when  we 
caught  him,"  Red  hurried  on,  "  an'  here's  Bill  Derr's  he 
just  gimme.  Yore  Honor,  look  'em  over  an*  say  what 
yuh  think." 

His  Honor,  after  a  close  inspection,  gave  it  as  his  opin 
ion  that  the  same  hand  and  knife  had  carved  the  three. 

"  All  this  don't  tangle  me  anywhere,"  said  Usher,  "  if 
that's  what  yo're  gettin'  at,  Mister  Man." 

"  That's  what  I'm  gettin'  at,"  replied  Red.  "  '  Li'l  by 
li'l  ties  the  knot '  as  the  Vigilantes  used  to  say." 

Lumley  and  Bruff  glanced  uneasily  at  each  other.  This 
Territorial  court  of  law  was  a  farce  —  so  far.  The  Lord 
knew  when  it  would  twist  into  a  tragedy. 

"  I  forgot  to  say,"  said  Red,  "  that  we  found  in  Hud 
son's  pocket  the  watch  of  the  Governor  of  this  Territory 
—  the  one  stole  from  him  in  the  holdup  near  town. 
Here's  the  watch.  They's  a  inscription  inside  the  case. 
Lookit,  Judge,  read  her  off  for  yourself.  So  yuh  see, 
yore  Honor  an'  gents,  here's  Hudson  gettin'  his  feet  wet 
an'  splashin'  Brad  Usher  at  the  same  time.  Yo're  shore 
you  don't  know  a  gent  named  Hudson  or  Hollister,  huh, 
Usher?" 

"  No,  I  don't,"  was  the  loudly  uttered  reply. 

"  Sheriff,  how  about  now  ?  "  queried  Red. 

Jake  Rule  nodded  and  strode  to  the  door  of  the  left- 
hand  cell,  which  he  unlocked.  A  moment  later  John 
Hudson,  alias  Hollister,  disheveled,  defiant  and  sullen, 
stumbled  out  upon  the  platform. 

"Did  yuh  ever  see  this  feller  before,  Mr.  Usher?" 
called  the  Judge,  indicating  the  prisoner. 

"  Am  I  bein'  examined?  "  asked  Bradley  Usher. 

"  Not  a-tall.  I'm  just  askin'  questions.  Nothin'  reg 
ular  about  this.  But  you  either  know  this  feller  or  you 
don't.  If  you  don't  answer,  you  must  have  a  reason  for 
not  answerin'.  Maybe  that  reason  would  be  interestin' 
for  to  know." 


378  Lynch   Lawyers 

Judge  Dolan  licked  his  lips  and  squinted  at  Mr.  Usher. 
The  latter's  face  was  expressionless.  Then  —  "I  don't 
know  him,"  said  Mr.  Usher.  "  Never  seen  him  in  all 
my  life." 

"  Lemme  make  you  acquainted  then,"  struck  in  Red. 
"  This  is  John  Hudson,  alias  Hollister,  the  gent  who  was 
askin'  for  yuh  that  night  in  yore  office  at  Flipup.  You 
don't  know  him,  an'  alia  time  you  was  keepin'  this  here 
new  hydraulic  peroxide  in  stock  for  him  an'  usin'  one  of 
his  Injun  girl  heads  for  a  paper  weight.  You  don't  know 
him,  huh?  That's  funny.  An'  it  don't  tangle  you  any 
where,  huh  ?  That's  funnier.  An'  what's  comin'  next  is 
gonna  be  funniest. 

"  Yore  Honor,"  went  on  Red,  turning  to  Judge  Dolan, 
"  me  an'  Tom  kept  right  along  try  in'  to  cut  out  our  own 
particular  cow,  an'  by  an'  by  we  got  the  true  story  of 
what  happened  at  the  Empire  Mine  the  day  Dick  Lenton, 
Ben  Lenton's  brother,  was  murdered. 

"  Usher,  Bruff,  Lumley  an'  Rouse  bought  the  mine 
for  sixty  thousand  dollars.  Usher  an'  Lumley  an'  Rouse 
—  BrufT  didn't  go  —  Hudson  an'  Art  Teller  an'  Skinner 
went  out  to  the  mine  the  mornin'  after  Ben  Lenton  an' 
his  daughter  left.  .  .  .  Huh  ?  Shore.  This  Hudson  was 
a  kind  of  go-between  for  Brad  Usher  an'  —  an'  whatever 
Brad  happened  to  be  interested  in  round  the  country. 
Nobody  knowed  him  in  Flipup  —  he  always  come  in 
an'  juked  out  in  the  night  —  except  Usher  an*  six  of  his 
friends.  An',  speakin'  of  friends,  we  found  out  that 
Hudson  knowed  Rum  Durkin  an'  Spunk  Lenn  back  east 
in  Chadron,  Nebraska,  where  they  all  three  broke  jail  to 
gether  just  in  time  to  miss  bein'  lynched  for  hoss-stealin'. 
Where  was  I  at?  Oh,  yeah,  Usher  an'  five  of  his  friends 
went  out  to  the  mine,  an'  they  got  there  early,  an*  they's 
nobody  there  but  Dick  Lenton,  an'  he's  drunk.  He 
showed  'em  the  money  where  she's  hid  in  the  stove,  an' 
between  'em  they  figured  to  rub  him  out,  take  the  thirty 


The    Hearing  379 

thousand,  put  all  the  blame  on  Ben  Lenton  an'  get  his 
thirty  thousand  too. 

"  They  drawed  lots  to  see  who'd  do  the  shootin',  an' 
Hudson  lost.  He  gave  Dick  Lenton  both  barrels  of  Dick's 
own  shotgun,  but  he  didn't  quite  finish  him;  so  Brad 
Usher  an'  Tom  Lumley  pulled  their  six-shooters,  an'  Dick 
died  right  quick." 

Red  sprang  to  his  feet  and  pointed  at  Lumley. 

"  Look  at  him,  yore  Honor !  "  he  shouted.  "  Don't  he 
look  like  a  guilty  man  ?  " 

Lumley,  beside  himself  with  badly  mixed  emotions, 
volleyed  back  denials,  general  and  particular. 

"  You  think  I  can't  prove  it?  "  interrupted  Red  at  the 
top  of  his  lungs.  "  Look !  " 

Red  half  turned  as  he  spoke  and  jerked  a  thumb  toward 
the  open  window  behind  him.  Framed  in  the  window 
appeared  the  handcuffed  form  of  Art  Teller,  Kansas 
Casey  in  close  attendance. 

"  He's  a  liar !  "  shrieked  Tom  Lumley.  "  I  never  fired 
a  shot !  I  never  even  drawed  my  gun !  It  was  Hudson 
an'  Usher  who  killed  Dick  Lenton !  I  —  I  tried  to  stop 
em !  I  tried  to  stop  'em !  I  tell  yuh  I  didn't  have  a  thing 
to  do  with  it !  " 

Instantly,  led  by  Bill  Derr  and  the  88  boys,  a  rush  of 
men  bore  Lumley  and  Bruff  to  the  floor  where  they  were 
sat  upon  and  deprived  of  their  weapons. 

It  was  then  that  John  Hudson  with  a  sudden  roar  of 
rage  sprang  from  the  platform  and  strove  to  brain  Tom 
Lumley  with  his  handcuffs.  But  Bill  Derr  was  a  watch 
ful  person,  particularly  so  at  that  moment,  and  Lumley 
escaped  with  the  mere  trifle  of  a  gashed  cheek. 

Toward  the  rear  of  the  room  Telescope  Laguerre  was 
pressing  the  muzzle  of  a  six-shooter  against  the  small  of 
Bradley  Usher's  back. 

"  Don'  you  move,"  Telescope  was  saying.  "  You  keep 
you'  hand  up  or  I  blow  you  een  half  mebbeso.  Were 


380  Lynch   Lawyers 

dat  gun,  hein?  I  fin'  it,  me.  Now  walk  slow  up  front  de 
room.  Move !  " 

"  Look  here,  Judge,"  said  Usher  when  he  had  been 
forced  to  the  platform,  "  you  can't  hold  us  for  a  crime 
alleged  to  have  been  committed  in  another  state.  I  want 
a  lawyer." 

"  We  ain't  got  a  lawyer  in  town,"  said  Judge  Dolan. 
"  So  that's  all  right.  An'  I'll  hold  yuh  as  vagabonds  till 
Colorado  gets  out  the  warrants  for  yuh.  So  that's  all 
right  too." 

"  You  ain't  got  nothin'  against  me,"  spoke  up  Billy 
Bruff  desperately.  "  Even  if  you  hold  these  other  fellers, 
I  ain't  in  it  with  them.  Kane  here  said  I  didn't  go  out 
to  the  mine  that  mornin'.  Holdin'  me  is  a  heap  illegal." 

"  Yeah,"  said  Red.  "  You  think  so.  Wait  till  yo're 
shaved  o'  that  beard  an'  see  if  Piney  Jackson  don't  recog 
nize  yuh.  He  was  a  horseshoer  in  yore  regiment  when  it 
was  stationed  at  Fort  Rackham,  where  Miss  Lenton  said 
you  deserted  after  the  post-trader's  killin',  you  bein'  at 
the  time  a  sergeant  named  Reynolds.  Yeah,  Piney  Jack 
son.  He's  the  blacksmith  here  in  Farewell.  You've 
seen  him  —  he's  right  yonder  now  —  an'  I  guess  you 
must  know  him  by  the  way  yore  eyes  are  battin'.  We'll 
just  see  if  he  knows  you." 

"  Whatsa  use  waitin'  to  shave  him?"  objected  Piney. 
"  I  got  my  hoss-clippers  right  in  my  pocket." 

Billy  Bruff  was  not  kept  waiting.  Ten  minutes  later 
he  was  identified  as  the  army  deserter  Reynolds,  the  man 
suspected  of  having  murdered  the  post-trader,  by  the  will 
ing  Piney. 

"  I  guess  that  settles  you,"  said  Judge  Dolan  in  a  loud 
voice.  "  Sheriff,  app'int  some  deputies  an'  take  all  these 
prisoners  down  to  the  express  office.  I  wanna  do  some 
investigatin'.  No,  nemmine  Red  Kane.  He  ain't  no  pris 
oner.  I  ain't  even  askin'  him  to  deny  the  charge  against 
him.  'Tain't  necessary,  since  he's  showed  up  the  fellers 


The    Hearing  381 

who  swore  out  the  warrants  the  way  he  has.  Affidavits 
an'  warrants  swore  to  an'  swore  out  by  murderers,  road 
agents  an'  army  deserters  don't  travel  a  foot  in  this  court, 
an'  the  warrants  against  Red  Kane,  his  brother  Tom,  an' 
Miss  Dorothy  Lenton  are  hereby  quashed.  Sheriff,  go 
right  along  with  yore  duty." 

"  You  Teller !  "  Hudson,  grinding  his  handcuffs  to 
gether  in  an  ecstasy  of  rage,  snarled  through  clenched 
teeth,  "  I'll  get  you  before  I  die,  an'  get  you  a-plenty,  you 
lousy  snitch !  " 

The  manacled  gentleman  at  the  open  window  tilted  his 
wizened  face  on  one  side  and  surveyed  the  glaring  Hud 
son  with  contempt. 

"  Don't  lemme  see  you  first,"  was  his  sole  remark. 

"  Aw,  you  needn't  be  bad  friends  with  Art  Teller,  Hud 
son,"  deprecated  Red.  "  Outside  of  bein'  a  murderer 
he's  all  right.  He  ain't  no  snitch.  But  I  knowed  he 
knowed  all  about  this  business,  an'  I  just  lied  a  li'l  bit 
when  he  showed  up  there  at  the  window  so  fine  and  prov 
idential.  Naw,  you  gotta  blame  Sheriff  Tom  Lumley  for 
bein'  took  in  an'  losin'  his  head  an'  blattin'  out  thataway, 
an'  likewise  Skinner  for  confessin',  besides  the  shotgun 
you  killed  Dick  Lenton  with  for  leadin'  us  straight  to 
Skinner  after  we  thought  we'd  lost  him  for  good  an'  all. 
Yep,  the  shotgun  with  Dick  Lenton's  initials  cut  into  the 
small  o'  the  stock.  You'd  oughta  destroyed  that  shot 
gun  instead  of  givin'  it  to  Bill  Doran  to  play  with.  That 
was  careless." 

Hudson  burst  into  a  flood  of  vile  and  filthy  oaths.  He 
continued  to  swear  as  the  impatient  sheriff  propelled  him 
toward  the  door. 

Noisily  the  crowd  and  the  prisoners  trooped  from  the 
building.  Oddly  enough,  the  sheriff  did  not  take  the 
captives  to  the  express  office.  He  locked  them  up  in  Judge 
Dolan's  warehouse  and  set  three  men  on  guard.  Which 
being  done,  the  sheriff  joined  Red  Kane,  Judge  Dolan, 


382  Lynch   Lawyers 

Bill  Derr  and  other  prominent  personages  at  the  bar  of 
the  Happy  Heart. 

An  hour  later  Red,  the  Judge,  Derr  and  the  sheriff 
returned  to  the  jail.  Jake  Rule  unlocked  the  door  of 
Buck  Saylor's  cell. 

"  Lookit  here,"  said  Red  roughly,  confronting  Buck 
Saylor.  "  Them  other  fellers  say  you  kept  back  half  o' 
that  fifty  thousand  for  yore  share.  What  did  you  do 
with  it?" 

"  Half !  "  screamed  the  overwrought  express  agent. 
"Half!  Ten  thousand  was  all  I  got.  They  — My 
Gawd  —  I  —  What  you  talkin'  about  ?  I  don't  know 
nothin'  about  it,  I  tell  you !  " 

"  I  guess  you've  said  enough,"  nodded  Red.  "  Have 
I  done  my  part  o'  the  bargain  satisfactory,  Sheriff  ?  " 

"  Which  I  should  say  so !  "  was  the  hearty  response. 
"  I'll  send  word  down  to  Flipup  right  away,  an'  the  old 
man  can  come  back  any  time." 

From  the  jail  Red  went  directly  to  the  sheriff's  house. 
Plump  Mrs.  Rule,  wiping  her  hands  on  her  apron,  said  in 
response  to  his  inquiry  that  Miss  Lenton  had  departed 
homeward. 

"Jake  sent  Kansas  to  tell  her  the  warrant  was 
squashed,"  Mrs.  Rule  told  him,  "  an'  Dot,  she  left  imme 
diate.  A  real  nice  girl,  that  one.  I  declare  I  was  glad 
to  have  her,  so  handy  an'  neat  an'  obligin'.  Know  her 
well,  Mr.  Kane?" 

"  Not  very  well.  Didn't  she  leave  no  message  for 
me?" 

"  Nary  a  word." 

Mrs.  Rule  folded  her  arms  across  her  substantial  bosom 
and  beamed  upon  him  fatuously. 

"  No  word  —  nothin'  a-tall  ?  "    Incredulously. 

The  sheriff's  wife  shook  her  tight,  slick  coiffure.  Red 
took  his  instant  leave  without  even  a  nod  for  politeness. 

Dot  gone  without  a  word !     He  couldn't  understand  it. 


The   Hearing  383 

She  must  have  known  he  was  in  town.  Kansas  would 
have  told  her,  or  Mrs.  Rule,  or  even  Jake  himself.  What 
did  it  mean  ?  Was  it  to  be  the  wrong  answer  after  all  ? 

There  was  only  one  way  to  find  out  —  follow.  He 
went  to  Tom's  corral,  whither  his  horse  had  been  taken, 
caught  up  the  animal  and  hurriedly  cinched  on  the  hull. 

But  he  did  not  immediately  head  toward  the  ranch- 
house  at  Sweetwater  Mountain.  Instead,  he  rode  north 
along  the  Bend  trail  a  short  two  miles.  Below  a  sway- 
backed  ridge  he  halted,  dragged  out  his  six-shooter  and 
fired  five  shots.  He  was  engaged  in  the  process  of  re 
loading  when  Tom  Kane  loped  out  of  an  adjacent  draw. 

"  It's  all  right,"  said  Red  listlessly.  "I  —  we  won, 
an'  the  warrants  are  squashed." 

"  Oh,  you  won,"  said  Tom.  "  Yo're  welcome  to  the 
credit.  You  worked  hard  enough  for  it.  Say,  I  seen 
Rooster  Cox  larrupin'  along  about  two  hours  ago.  He 
was  headin'  north.  I  didn't  stop  him." 

Red  nodded. 

"  I  didn't  see  him  at  the  hearin',"  he  said.  "  He  musta 
smelt  a  mice  some'ers.  Can't  prove  nothin'  against  him, 
but  I  expect  he  ain't  so  sure  about  that  himself." 

"  I  expect  he  ain't,"  chuckled  Tom.  "  An'  that'll  be 
the  last  of  him  an'  his  outfit  round  here,  anyway.  What 
yuh  lookin'  so  sad  for,  huh  ?  " 

"Who?     Me?     Me  sad?     Why  —  " 

"  Yeah,  you.  Which  yore  face  is  as  long  as  a  well- 
rope.  An'  look  —  Say,  has  she  give  yuh  the  klatawahf 
Has  she?  Did  she  turn  yuh  down,  huh?  Did  she?" 
The  liveliest  hope  was  depicted  upon  the  countenance  of 
Tom  Kane. 

"  If  I  only  had  a  button,  I  could  fasten  that  grin  of 
yores  right  behind  yore  ears,"  said  Red,  forcing  a  hard 
smile.  "  You  look  like  a  catfish." 

"  I'll  bet  she's  gave  yuh  the  mitten,"  persisted  Tom, 
"  an'  serve  you  good  an'  right  for  bein'  a  fool.  Yo're 


384  Lynch   Lawyers 

well  out  of  it.  Just  lookit  what's  happened  because  you 
went  an'  fell  in  love  with  that  nester's  girl!  Just  lookit 
all  the  trouble  we  horned  into !  You  an'  I  was  lucky  not 
to  be  lynched.  An'  all  on  account  of  her  an'  her  black 
eyes !  I  tell  yuh,  bad  luck  with  a  big  B !  Yo're  well  out 
of  it,  yuh  bet  yuh." 

"I  ain't  asked  her  yet,"  Red  said  dully,  "if  yuh  gotta 
know.  I'm  ridin'  out  to  the  K  C  now." 

"  You  are!  Well,  if  you  can't  see  the  quicksand  after 
all  that's  happened,  ride  into  it,  cowboy,  ride  into  it  hell 
bent!  I  give  up.  I  ain't  got  a  word  to  say.  Not  a 
word.  I've  done  scratched  my  head  till  she's  raw,  tryin' 
to  figger  some  way  o'  gittin'  you  out  o'  this.  I  spent  one 
whole  afternoon  the  day  I  come  to  see  you  at  the  K  C 
after  you  was  shot  a-settin'  on  a  rock  a-wrastlin'  an'  a- 
puzzlin'  to  snoozle  out  a  path  for  yuh  —  I've  shore  stud 
ied  a  heap,  an'  it  ain't  done  a  bit  o'  good.  I've  talked  till 
I'm  dry  as  a  covered  bridge,  an'  yo're  still  as  sheep-fool 
ish  as  ever.  You'll  wish  you  hadn't,  you  hear  me  war- 
blin'!  An'  a  year  from  now  you'll  be  fightin'  like 
wolves." 

Red  laid  a  long  finger  alongside  his  nose. 

"Har!"  said  he.  "An'  again  har,  har!  An'  three 
times  har,  har,  har!  Which  bein'  translated  into  words 
of  one  syllable  means  the  more  I  see  of  you  the  better  I 
like  myself.  Now  you  drift  along  into  Farewell, 
Tommy,  old  settler,  an'  get  yore  freightin'  business  a- 
goin'  again.  If  I'm  gonna  be  yore  partner,  I'm  all  for 
activity  an'  makin'  money  an'  pushin'  the  bridge  over 
generally.  So  long." 

With  a  loud  whoop  Red  smacked  his  hat  across  the 
astonished  eyes  of  Tom's  pony,  wheeled  his  horse  in  a 
quarter-circle  and  galloped  off  eastward. 

Tom,  when  he  had  his  mount  again  under  control, 
looked  at  Red  vanishing  down  the  draw,  and  added  a  few 
chosen  words  to  those  he  had  been  passionately  uttering 


The    Hearing  385 

during  the  gyrations  of  his  pony.  Then  he  smiled  sourly 
and  rolled  a  cigarette. 

"  Alia  same,"  he  said  aloud  in  the  general  direction  of 
his  horse's  ears,  "  alia  same,  he's  one  good  worker.  An' 
she  won't  spoil  that." 

When  Red  reached  the  ranch-house  under  Sweetwater 
the  kitchen  door  stood  wide  open,  and  from  the  chimney 
pennoned  a  wisp  of  smoke. 

He  dismounted  heavily,  dropped  the  reins  over  his 
horse's  head  and  walked  slowly  to  the  doorway.  He 
stood  there,  his  hat  in  his  hand,  looking  in.  No  one  was 
in  the  room,  but  a  pot  of  coffee,  roosting  low  on  the  fire, 
protruded  six  inches  above  lid-level.  The  kitchen  table 
was  set  for  two.  He  looked  long  at  that  table.  His 
mind  was  a  tangle  of  doubt  and  conjecture.  He  shifted 
his  feet  and  passed  a  hand  across  the  back  of  his  head. 

"  You  —  you  might  as  well  come  in." 

It  was  Dot  Lenton  speaking  from  the  doorway  of  the 
inner  room. 

He  stepped  over  the  sill,  wondering  why  she  should 
boggle  her  invitation.  It  wasn't  like  her.  She  was  a 
direct  sort  of  person.  He  looked  at  her  standing  there, 
at  the  fugitive  smile  that  left  her  red  mouth  grave,  at  the 
dark  eyes  deep  as  the  wells  of  night,  and  his  heart  hopped 
right  up  into  his  mouth  and  stayed  there  fighting  for  exist 
ence  with  his  Adam's  apple.  But  all  he  could  think  of 
to  say  was  — 

"  You  didn't  leave  me  no  word." 

The  fugitive  smile  returned  on  the  instant. 

"  Was  it  so  necessary?  "  she  asked  softly,  and  a  slow 
flush  reddened  the  tan  of  throat  and  cheeks. 

At  once  that  old  K  C  kitchen  underwent  a  most  marvel 
ous  change.  There  were  birds  there,  scores  of  them, 
and  they  were  all  singing  as  if  their  little  throats  would 
burst.  And  there  was  a  light  too,  a  wonderful  golden 
light  that  filled  every  nook  and  cranny. 


386  Lynch   Lawyers 

Red  dropped  his  hat  on  the  floor  and  drew  a  long 
breath. 

"Have  you  found  out  yet?"  he  asked,  his  eyes  on 
hers. 

"  Wait/'  she  said  and  came  forward  into  the  kitchen. 

Her  cantina  hung  over  a  chair-back.  She  jerked  open 
the  flap,  inserted  her  hand  and  pulled  out  a  flat,  limp  pack 
age  wrapped  in  a  newspaper  and  tied  with  the  blue  string 
affected  by  the  Blue  Pigeon  Store.  She  laid  this  pack 
age  on  the  table  between  the  places  she  had  set. 

"  Red,"  she  said,  facing  him  across  the  table,  "  before 
I  answer  your  question  I  want  to  —  to  —  tut-tell  you 
somethin'  and  show  you  somethin'.  I  —  I  was  a  beast, 
Red,  when  I  said  what  I  did." 

"Huh?" 

He  gaped  at  her.  A  beast !  What  was  the  girl  talk 
ing  about?  A  pucker  of  alarm  creased  his  forehead. 

"  A  beast,"  she  repeated,  "  a  nasty,  little,  swell-headed, 
self-sufficient  little  beast." 

Red  stared  at  her  helplessly.  She  seemed  sane  enough, 
but  what  was  she  talking  about? 

With  a  snap  of  her  thumb  she  broke  the  blue  string 
that  bound  the  package.  She  snicked  open  the  newspaper 
and  revealed  a  brand-new  shirt  of  gray  flannel  plentifully 
besprinkled  with  aggressive  purple  horseshoes.  On  top 
of  the  shirt  lay  a  folded  silk  handkerchief  of  a  strikingly 
vivid  green.  He  regarded  the  shirt.  He  regarded  the 
handkerchief.  Then  he  looked  at  her.  Still  he  did  not 
understand. 

"  Red,"  she  said,  meeting  his  gaze  bravely,  "  I  spoiled 
your  gray  shirt  when  I  washed  it,  and  the  horseshoes  all 
ran  and  faded  out,  and  I  took  away  your  green  handker 
chief,  and  I  —  I  said  things  to  you  about  them  —  things 
I  shouldn't  have  said  about  what  didn't  matter,  anyway. 
So  here's  another  gray  shirt,  Red,  like  your  old  one,  and 
another  handkerchief  like  the  one  I  took.  I  —  I  think 


The   Hearing  387 

they're  the  —  the  shirt's  the  right  size.  Mister  Flynn 
said  it  was,  and  he  ordered  it  special  from  Piegan 
City.  I  —  I  think  a  green  handkerchief  tied  round 
the  neck  of  a  gray  shirt  with  purple  horseshoes  mum- 
makes  the  most  bub-beautiful  combination  in  the  world, 
and  very  becomin'  to  a  man  with  red  hair." 
And  then  the  table  was  no  longer  between  them. 

"  I  think  the  coffee's  scorchin'." 

Dot  Lenton  stirred  briefly  and  sniffed  the  air. 

"  Is  it  ?     What  do  you  care  ?  " 

"  I  don't  —  much."     Comfortably. 

"  My  goodness,  Red,  look  at  the  sun.  We  —  we've 
been  sittin'  here  all  afternoon." 

"  You  just  notice  it?  I  s'pose  we'd  oughta  be  goin'. 
Dolan  goes  to  bed  early,  an'  we  don't  wanna  roust  him 
out  too  late." 

"Dolan?" 

"  Shore,  Dolan  the  judge.  He  marries  folks.  He's 
gonna  marry  you  an'  me.  Now,  that's  all  right.  I'm 
doin'  this.  Day  after  to-morrow's  the  twentieth.  I 
gotta  go  down  to  Triangle  Mountain  to  light  that  smoke 
for  yore  dad,  ain't  I  ?  You  don't  think  I'm  goin'  alone, 
do  yuh?  Well,  then." 


THE    END 


THE  OWNER  OF 
THE  LAZY  D 


By  WILLIAM  PATTERSON  WHITE 

Author  of  "LYNCH   LAWYERS" 

With  frontispiece  by  Anton  Otto  Fischer 

12mo.     Cloth.     324  pages.      $1.75  net 


This  novel  of  a  cattle- war  between  the  rival  ranch-owners  of 
Glenn  County,  is  laid  in  the  Wild  West,  and  there  is  an  abun 
dance  of  gun-play  and  excitement  throughout  the  story. 

"When  one  takes  up  a  Wild  West  story  one  wants  adven 
ture,  plenty  of  fighting,  a  little  love  making,  but  especially 
the  wild,  lawless  West.  .  .  .  Mr.  White  understands  this 
and  has  given  his  readers  the  real  thing;  he  has  produced  the 
most  stirring  Wild  West  story  that  has  been  published  for 
many  a  year." — Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

"If  you  are  imbued  with  an  adventurous  spirit,  Dal  Gil- 
more's  unique  method  of  cleaning  up  the  cattle-rustlers  of 
Glenn  County  will  wile  away  an  evening  very  comfortably." — 
New  York  Times. 

"Whoever  is  looking  for  a  rattling  cowpuncher  story  will 
find  himself  precipitated  into  the  thick  of  a  four-angled 
ranch-feud  sufficiently  exciting  to  suit  the  most  jaded  ap 
petite." — Detroit  Free  Press. 

"One  of  those  cheerful,  careless,  Wild  West  yarns  which 
are  like  a  breath  of  mountain  air  after  a  hothouse  of  societi- 
fied  fiction." — St.  Louis  Star. 

"For  its  kind  'The  Owner  of  the  Lazy  D'  is  exceptionally 
good,  and  is  calculated  to  make  even  those  who  do  not  like 
the  kind  change  their  minds." — New  York  Sun. 


LITTLE,  BROWN  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 

34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


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i\ 

SENT  ON  ILL 

NOV  2  6  2001 

U.  C.  BERKELEY 

FORM  NO.  DD  6, 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELE 
BERKELEY,  CA  94720 


YB  40144 


M5342O7 


